: .'«- 


/  ^4 


WOMEN, 


OR 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  LATE  AYAR, 


BY 


MARY   TUCKER    MAGILL. 


••The  mission  of  woman  on  earth  t  to  s;ive  birth 
To  the  mercy  of  Heaven  descendins:  on  earth. 
The  mission  of  woman:    permitted  to  bruise 
The  head  of  the  serpent,  and  sweetly  Iniuse, 
Through  the  sorrow  and  sin  of  earth's  registered  curse^ 
The  blessing  which  mitigates  all ;   born  to  nurse 
And  to  soothe  and  to  solace,  to  help  and  to  heal 
The  fiicli  world  that  leans  on  her."  ^  ,,  ^ 


BALTIMORE: 

TURNBULL    BROTHERS. 
1871. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  I87l» 

bt  turxbull  brothers. 

In  Uie  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congresa,  at  ■Washington. 


3e)  $  ^  i  c  a  i  1  0  n  . 

To  THK  Women  of  the  SouTn! 

IS  THIS  VOLUilK 

AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED. 

For  it  is  to  their  sympathy  and 

confirmation,  that  the  author  looks  in  the 

narration  of  this  little  story.    If  they  recognise  in  it  any 

kinship  to  their  own  experience ;  if  it  stir  their 

hearts  tenderly  for  the  dead  past,  and  nerve 

them  for  the  living  present,  one  great 

object  in  her  labors  will  have 

been  attained. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


603123 


INTRODUCTION 


A  TRUE  artist,  before  lie  touches  his  canvas,  paints  upon 
the  retina  of  his  mind's  eye  a  perfect  representation  of  the 
scene  he  wishes  to  portray  "with  the  skilful  pencil  of  his  fancy 
here  deepening  a  shade  and  there  developing  an  expression, 
until  he  sees  it  the  perfect  embodiment  of  his  idea ;  nor  does 
he  rest  satisfied  until  the  glowing  canvas  presents  a  reflection 
of  this,  its  original. 

A  true  orator,  whose  office  it  is  to  deal  with  the  passions  of 
the  multitude,  to  sway  and  control  them  at  his  will  by  his  use 
of  language  gesture  and  eye,  before  he  can  accomplish  his  end 
must  bear  upon  his  own  heart  the  impress  of  the  feeling  he 
describes.  Language  the  most  beautiful  falls  powerless  unless 
the  heart  be  in  it,  while  the  most  thrilling  eloquence  is  the 
eloquence  of  deep  feeling. 

The  author  combines  these  two  arts,  merges  them  into  one. 
He  too  paints  his  scenes  upon  the  retina  of  his  mind's  eye  and  re- 
flects them  in  language.  He  too  is  obliged  to  bear  upon  his  heart 
the  impress  of  the  feeling  he  would  describe,  and  that  also  with 
a  vividness  and  power  equal  to  if  not  exceeding  that  which  he 
would  excite ;  and  so  it  must  be  that  the  author  suff'ers  keenly  in 
portraying  human  passion  and  suffering,  because  he  must  in 
every  case  make  it  his  own. 


vi  INTRODUCTION. 

This  being  the  case,  it  cannot  be  wondered  at  that  the  task  just 
accomplished  in  these  pages  has  been  a  painful  one ;  and  the 
more  so  that  each  incident,  if  not  real,  had  its  counterpart 
in  the  author's  own  experience  or  that  of  her  friends.  It  has 
been  the  waking  of  the  echoes  of  old  trials,  the  evoking  from  the 
chambers  of  memory  scenes  which  had  just  fallen  into  their 
first  slumber  there :  the'  tender  smile  of  recollection,  which 
itself  has  a  tear  in  it,  of  old  laughter  and  happiness,  not  the 
less  intense  because  they  came  as  the  reaction  of  the  heart  from 
anxiety  and  grief,  the  summoning  from  their  graves  friends 
dead  and  gone,  and  making  them  live  and  act  once  more  on  the 
mimic  stage  of  her  fancy.  Often  has  her  pen  faltered  and  her 
heart  grown  faint  over  her  task ;  but  with  nature  as  her  inspira- 
tion and  truth  as  her  guide,  she  has  persevered  to  the  end.  How 
the  work  has  been  accomplished,  she  leaves  it  to  the  judgment 
of  the  public  to  decide  —  a  public  which  has  proved  so  kind  to 
her  in  the  past  that  she  dares  regard  it  as  her  friend. 

The  theme  chosen  is  no  uncommon  one,  perhaps,  though  in 
the  treatment  given,  it  can  scarce  be  regarded  as  hackneyed. 
It  is  more  the  fashion  to  lay  the  scenes  of  a  war  story  on  the 
battle-field,  in  the  camp  and  the  toilsome  march,  to  write  of 
deeds  dared  by  those  whose  province  it  is  to  act  the  more  vigor- 
ous part  in  such  scenes.  But  this  is  a  story  of  Woman  in 
her  proper  sphere,  by  the  fireside,  in  her  household  duties,  and 
by  the  side  of  the  sick  and 'dying.  It  is  a  simple,  unexagge- 
rated  narrative  of  what  non-combatants  are  forced  to  endure  in 
a  country  torn  by  intestine  strife,  and  for  its  truth  I  appeal  not 
only  to  my  own  country-women,  but  to  the  world  ;  and  I  hear  an 
echo  from  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  and  the  fair  plains  of 
Italy,  while  Poland  and  Greece  take  up  the  refrain,  and  France, 
baring  her  breast  all  gory  with  recent  wounds,  cries  aloud  for  a 
pen  of  fire  with  which  to  write  her  story. 


INTRODUCTION.  vii 

The  title  of  tlie  book  was  first  suggested  by  an  incident  in 
wliich  tlie  autlior  was  an  actor.  Its  narration  may  not  be  without 
interest. 

It  was  in  November  of  1862,  after  the  bloody  battle  of  Antie- 
tam,  when  the  town  of  Winchester  constituted  the  field-hospital 
for  the  army.  Every  building  devoted  to  such  purposes  was 
crowded ;  the  private  houses  also  were  filled,  and  even  along  the 
streets  the  sufierers  lay,  affording  a  moving  spectacle  of  the 
horrors  of  war. 

The  rapid  transitions  of  the  army  had  rendered  it  impossible 
to  supply  the  sick  and  wounded  with  such  comforts  as  they 
needed.  A  pallet  of  straw  and  coarse  army  fare  was  the  lot  of  all, 
no  matter  what  their  condition  and  rank. 

In  this  state  of  affairs  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  ladies  of 
the  town  were  not  backward  in  their  efforts  to  supply,  so 
far  as  their  means  allowed,  what  was  lacking;  and  when 
their  resources  were  exhausted  they  still  gave  their  time  and 
services.  Night  and  day  found  them  in  attendance  on  the 
poor  sufferers.  They  did  not  hesitate  to  take  the  hospitals  under 
tlieir  care  even,  and  with  all  then*  energies  strove  to  ameliorate 
the  sufferings  which  met  them  at  every  turn. 

But  an  obstacle  occurred  which  threatened  to  be  serious,  if 
not  insurmountable.  In  the  decimation  of  all  the  callings  of 
trade  which  the  war  occasioned,  there  was  not  a  shoemaker  in 
the  town,  out  of  the  army,  and  the  ladies  were  seriously  embar- 
rassed by  the  fact  that  their  shoes  were  completely  worn  out,  not 
even  affording  sufficient  protection  to  enable  them  to  pursue 
their  walks  to  the  hospitals  with  comfort. 

In  this  emergency  it  was  suggested  that  if  an  application 
were  made,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  have  a  shoemaker 
detailed  from  the  ranks  who  would  in  a  short  time  remedy  the 
evil. 


viii  INTRODUCTION, 

Acting  upon  this,  the  author  of  these  pages,  as  the  representa- 
tive of  her  companions,  made  the  application  to  General  Jackson 
himself,  by  letter,  in  which  she  took  the  ground  that  although 
nature  and  custom  combined  to  exclude  women  from  a  more 
active  participation  in  scenes  of  warfare ,  yet  were  they,  in  pur- 
suing their  walks  among  the  sick  and  suffering,  in  relieving  the 
wants  of  the  destitute,  as  truly  the  soldiers  of  the  South  as  the 
men,  and  as  such  their  ahsolute  wants  should  be  suppUed.  A 
statement  of  these  was  then  made,  and  the  request  preferred 
that  Sergeant  Faulkner,  a  young  tradesman  of  the  town,  might 
be  detailed  to  make  shoes  for  the  ladies  who  attended  the 
hospitals.    This  is  the  fac-simile  of  General  Jackson's  reply : 


INTEODUCTIOK  ix 


X  I NTEODVCTION. 

In  writing  a  story  of  the  "Lost  Cause,"  the  author  has  fully 
appreciated  the  delicacy  and  difficulty  of  the  task.  Acknowledg- 
ing the  expediency  of  ' '  seeking  those  things  which  make  for 
peace,"  she  has  earnestly  desired  to  avoid  the  bitterness  and  re- 
crimination which  formed  so  prominent  a  feature  in  the  domestic 
scenes  of  the  war.  She  has  attempted  no  political  view  of  the 
subject ;  she  has  never  once  attacked  the  actions  of  the  Grovern- 
ment ;  she  has  simply  amplified  the  fact  that  there  are  bad  men 
and  tyrants  in  every  army,  who  will  not  hesitate  to  use  the  power 
intrusted  to  them  for  military  purposes,  merely  to  serve  their 
own  ends  or  gratify  a  private  grievance,  and  hence  a  great  deal 
of  the  suffering  which  is  inseparable  from  a  state  of  war. 

For  the  Cause  itself  she  has  only  to  say  that  History,  which 
seldom  espouses  the  cause  of  the  vanquished,  may  bring  in  a 
verdict  of  guilty  against  it,  may  decide  that  the  sacrifices  made 
and  the  terrible  agonies  endured  were  in  the  cause  of  wrong  and 
oppression ;  but  if  ever  there  was  pure  patriotism,  an  earnest, 
honest  conviction  of  right,  it  nerved  the  arms  and  inspired  the 
hearts  of  the  people  of  the  South.  And  for  the  women  :  as  a 
mother  clasps  in  her  loving  embrace  her  new-born  child,  and 
rejoices  in  its  perfection  of  life  and  limb  and  that  it  is  all  her 
own,  so  did  they  love  the  "Cause  "in  its  new  birth ;  and  when 
the  blood  began  to  flow,  and  they  looked  upon  its  fair  young 
face  all  marred  and  bleared  by  its  suffering,  they  but  hugged  it 


INTRODUCTION.  Xl 

the  closer  to  their  breasts ;  and  when  at  last  they  laid  it  a  dead 
corpse  under  the  sods  of  Appomattox,  they  wept  bitter  tears  over 
its  loss.  And  still  with  pious  sorrow  do  they  trace  out  its  footsteps 
through  the  Icngtli  and  breadth  of  the  land,  remembering  them 
of  each  trait  which  endeared  it  to  them ;  laughing  and  weeping 
in  a  breath  as  recollection  brings  back  its  scenes  of  sorrow  and 
triumph,  of  joy  and  humiliation;  and  through  it  all,  turning 
aside  from  a  contemplation  of  secondary  causes,  they  bow 
beneath  the  hand  which  dealt  the  blow,  saying,  "  It  is  the  Lord : 
let  Him  do  as  seemeth  Him  good. ' ' 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGB. 

Introduces  the  Reader  to  the  Town  of  Winchester  and  its  Envi- 
rons, its  History  and  its  Legends  ;  and  also,  through  the  fa- 
miliar pages  of  a  correspondence,  furnishes  the  domestic 
status  of  two  Family  Circles  for  whom  the  Author  hopes  to 
create  an  interest ....         1 

CHAPTER  11. 

The  Reader  unceremoniously  intrudes  himself  into  a  Fam.ily 
Party,  and  becomes  acquainted  with  several  of  the  dramatis 
pei'sonce  of  the  story.      ...  14 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  "pomp,  pride,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war"  as  dis- 
played at  a  Military  Review,  at  which  the  Author  takes  the 
liberty  of  making  a  few  Pen-and-ink  Photographs  of  Distin- 
guished Individuals.  Presents  the  Reader  also  to  some  very 
Ordinary  Types  of  Character,  one  of  whom,  it  is  true,  "  do 
vash  too  hart."  22 

CHAPTER    IV. 

A  Hasty  Evacuation  in  the  face  of  an  enemy.  Leave-takings 
through  tears.  The  First  Blow  Struck.  Joy  in  Sorrow,  and 
Sorrow  in  Joy.  .       ,  34 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Reader  is  introduced  to  Rose  Hill  and  its  inmates.  A  ease 
of  Strategy  versus  Strength.  Which  is  the  superior,  Man  or 
Woman? 44 

CHAPTER   VI. 

A  Reconnoissance  In  force,  and  what  came  of  it.  The  Reader  is 
courteously  invited  to  an  Inspection  of  Character.    ...       53 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE. 

A  Night  Iiiicrview.  Wooed  and  Won:  "Papa  must  be  con- 
sulted." An  Expedition  to  Manassas.  Meeting  at  Margaret's 
Grotto,  during  which  "  Papa's  "  letter  is  read  and  approved. 
Startling  disclosures ! 72 

CHAPTER  YIII. 
A  Breakfast  Scene.    Hot  Coffee  good  for  "de  insides."   Sorrow 
broods  over  the  household.    "  Mammy  Judy ' '  carries  the  day. 
Brandy  Station  as  it  appeared  one  October  evening  to  anx- 
ious eyes.    The  Field  Hospital.    "At  last,  Jean,  at  last !"       .       S7 

CHAPTER   IX. 
"  'Tis  better  to  laugh  than  be  sighing  when  Time  is  on  the  wing." 
Arrival  of  Visitors.    Familiar  Talk,  in  which  Mammy  Judy 
figuratively  treads  on  Mr.  Holcombe's  toes  more  than  once.       97 

CHAPTER  X. 

Nature  appoints  her  sovereigns  each  in  his  turn.  How  Win- 
chester looks  with  a  new  wrinkle  on  her  brow.  The  Bath 
Expedition.  A  new  article  of  Horse  Feed  discovered  and  dis- 
cussed. Lieutenant  Dallam  presents  his  views  upon  particu- 
lar affairs.  "Spilingfor  afigiit."  "  Madam,  pi  ay  for  us!  "  An 
Unexpected  Scene.  "  Bearing  it  cheerfully."  Winchester  has 
fallen!! 104 

CHAPTER    XI. 
Drops  of  Consolation  in  the  Cup  of  Misery.     When  you  have  a 
Secret,  keep  it,  or  it  is  a  Secret  no  longer.    Rumor  is  a  plant 
of  rapid  growth,  and  often  bears  a  fruit  called  Disastrous 
Consequences. 117 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Whatthat"  Daring  Rebel  Ashby  "did.  A  Hospital  Scene.  "Take 

warning,  my  boys ! " 127 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Rebel  strategy  resulting  in  the  battle  of  Kernstown.    Hope  beats 
in  anxious  hearts,  but  is  ruthlessly  crushed  by  "  Yankee 
Doodle."    Winchester  is  entered  but  not  taken.    How  the 
Prisoners  were  fed 132 

CHAPTER  XIY. 
f  he  proper  rank  a  Chronicler  holds  in  the  world.  "Haven't  had 
a  Bite  for  three  Days."  Prisoners  are  exchanged  and  one 
comes  home,  but  not  the  one.  Cooking  and  Milking  in  the 
Raw.  The  Evening  Walk.  Indignation,  Suspicion  and  Sor- 
row.   All  is  over!     .       • HO 


CONTENTS.  XV 

CHAPTEK  XV. 

PAGE, 

Strategic  ^Movement  to  relieve  Riclimond ;  also  relieves  Win- 
chester. A  Night  of  Terror,  Panic  and  Triumph.  A  Visit  to  the 
Battle-field.    A  Tale  told  by  two  dead  men 155 

CHAPTEK  XVI. 

What  does  General  Jackson  mean  ?  Joys  flee  after  a  brief  so- 
journ, and  so  do  armies.    Truth  is  stranger  than  Fiction.      .      166 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Rose  Hill  experiences  some  of  the  Evils  of  Notoriety.  A  Visitor 
is  announced  and  receives  rather  an  unexpected  greeting. 
The  bending  reed  often  stands  the  storm  better  than  the 
sturdy  oak.   Lost,  Lost! 172 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

The  Scenes  change  like  flitting  Clouds  of  the  Sky.  A  Romp  in- 
terrupted. How  Danger  acts  as  a  whetstone  to  Wit.  Tlie  Piano 
tuner.  Fruitless  Search ,  at  wlaich  the  Piano- tuner  assists  and 
is  evidently  not  to  blame 183 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

•'What  You  Gits  for  being  a  Rebel."  The  Federal  Government 
feeds  its  Soldiers  on  Rebel  Bacon.  Rebel  Strategy,  by  which 
the  Federals  are  flanked,  and  in  which  a  Cake-baking  and  a 
Love-story  have  their  proper  places.  Captain  Brown  •'  rises  to 
explain,"  and  an  old  friend  is  recognised  under  a  new  name.      1S6 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Cluseret,  a  New  Star,  rises  upon  the  Winchester  Horizon.  Prac- 
tical Astronomy  being  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  discovers  it 
to  be  an  evil  star,  wliereat  the  people  tremble.  The  Star  pro- 
vides quarters  for  itself  from  Rebel  resources.  Diflercnce 
satisfactorily  explained  between  robbery  and  "  prissing."      .     201 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Gives  Naboth's  Vineyard,  with  notes  and  illustrations.    "Oh 

that  my  enemy  would  write  a  letter !"  which  the  enemy  did.     215 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Prettiest  Thing  in  Nature  shown  to  th.e  Reader.  A  Domestic 
Table-au  interrupted.  Captain  Brown  calls  on  Captain  Mur- 
ray, but  does  not  flnd  him  in.  "  A  man  convinced  against 
his  will,  is  of  the  same  opinion  still,"  illustrated.  Captain 
Brown  "vows  a  vow." 221 


xvi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PAGE. 

It  is  a  Scatisfaction  to  one  to  feel  that  one  has  said  or  written  a 
good  thing,  but  the  results  sometimes  exceed  expectations. 
Miss  Randolph  makes  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Purdy.  A 
War  of  Wits,  in  which  the  gentleman  is  a  little  worsted.  Mr. 
Purdy  remembers  the  old  axiom,  "Actions  speak  louder 
than  words,"  therefore  stops  talking  and  proceeds  to  act. 
"  A  moving  on." 237 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  Confederate  Candle  six  hundred  feet  long.  The  light  Is 
too  dim,  so  Captain  Brown  supplies  a  substitute  which  is 
bright  enough  for  all  needs.  "  Hurrah !  hurrah  for  Southern 
Rights,  hurrah ! " 256 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Shows  how  the  kindling  of  one  light  put  out "  life's  brief  candle." 
What  Captain  Brown  sees  when  he  went  to  reap  the  reward 
of  his  labors.  Does  not  enjoy  himself  as  much  as  he  ex- 
pected, and  leaves  in  disgust.  How  the  little  flower  was 
planted 263 

CHAPTER  XXYI. 

A  Southern  woman  thrown  on  her  own  resources.  How  she 
meets  the  emergencies.  A  ride.  A  meeting  with  a  friend. 
Rye  Coffee  not  appreciated.    Sassafras  or  T'other.    ...      275 

CHAPTER  XXYII. 

Richmond  during  the  War.  We  are  happy  to  meet  some  old 
friends,  and  do  not  object  to  some  new  introductions.  Ellen 
Randolph 292 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"Rachel  weeping  for  her  Children,"  refuses  to  be  comforted. 
Mrs.  Holcombe  takes  a  veiT  decided  step,  and  stumbles 
upon  a  Haunted  Man.  A  Flitting  under  Flag  of  Truce. 
What  Accommodation  the  Confederacy  afforded  the  Travel- 
lers. "Vagabones  or  'Fugees,"  One  or  the  Other.  "Bill 
Myers"  proves  a  Friend  in  Need.  Arrivals.  A  Curtain 
falls.    "The  Same  Old  Story  is  told  again."  .       .       .    .     299 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Battle  of  Chancellorsville.  How  Captain  Murray  tried  to  miti" 
gate  Suffering.  A  Meeting  he  did  not  expect.  "  A  War  in 
the  Members  warring  against  the  War  in  the  Mind."  How 
it  ended _.-._.     318 


CONTENT^S.  xvii 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

PAGE. 

Sorrow  in  the  Midst  of  Triumpli.    "A  Great  Man  is  lallen  in 

Israel.'    "  He  belongs  to  tlie  People." ">-3 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Our  Chronicler  puts  on  liis  "Seven-League  Boots,'"  and  uses 
them.  A  glance  at  Richmond  Society  in  its  Different 
Phases,  and  at  the  Holcom1)es  in  particular.  Ellen  and 
Mary  (figuratively  speaking)  "Put  their  Shoulders  to  the 
Wheel.''    One  of  the  Ripples  in  the  Course  of  True  Love.      .      ^27 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A  Battle  Ijetwcen  the  Elements  and  a  Young  Lady  detailed. 
Mr.  Inskeep  rushes  to  the  Rescue.  White  Sugar  ior  Tea ;  a 
Thing  to  call  for  Particular  Mention.  Mr.  Inskeep  wants  a 
Wife,  and  Mary  Holcombe  beats  a  precipitate  Retreat.  The 
Confederate  Commissary  Department  with  its  Female  Clerks. 
A  Christmas  Holiday  and  a  Christmas  Treat  in  War  Fashion. 
A  Christmas  Dinner  projected.  A  Home  Scene  in  the  Con- 
federacy  ^■>0 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
A  President's  Levee.  At  which  we  attend.  What  we  saw 
there.  Some  few  Portraits  from  Life.  Female  Soldiers. 
The  Unwilling  Conscript.  Mary  waxes  indignant  over  her 
wrongs,  and  says  so.  Mr.  Inskeep  declines  being  a  Friend 
and  Brother ;51'J 

CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

A  Shopping  Expedition,  in  which  there  is  an  Historical  Ac- 
count of  what  things  cost  in  Richmond  during  the  War. 
The  Christmas  Tree.  Mr.  Inskeep  will  talk  Sentiment. 
Mary  gets  a  Splinter  in  her  Finger,  and  Mr.  Hautman  ven- 
turing to  smile,  receives  a  Quietus.  An  Arrival.  Strange 
Developments.    Mary  sustaining  the  character  of  au  Arm.      oCU) 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  End  approaclies.  Scenes  in  Richmond  on  Sunday  the  2d 
of  April.  Evacuation  of  the  City.  The  Fire.  Thrilling  Ex- 
periences. "  Yankees ! "  Yankees  !  "  How  "  Mammy  Judy  " 
gets  food  for  her  "  Children."  Destitution  in  the  City.  How 
the  Federal  Government  feeds  its  Captives -Jd 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  Last  Gasp  of  Hope.    The  Federal  Salute.    Returning  Home 

from  the  Wars.    Sad  Scenes.     General  Lee -St 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

In  wuich  the  story  winds  up  with  Two  Scenes 3i^5 


OR 

Clironicles   of  tlie  Late  W"ar. 


CHAPTER   I. 


'  This  is  the  place.     Stand  still,  my  steed, 
Let  me  review  the  scene, 
And  summon  from  the  shadowy  past 
The  forms  that  once  have  been."  —  Longfellow. 

Kear  the  head  of  the  Yalley  of  Yirginia,  sharing 
its  rich  stores  of  historic  association,  shut  in  by  its 
"everlasting  hills,"  is  the  town  of  Winchester.  Look- 
ing to  the  northeast  and  Avest  we  see  an  horizon 
bounded  by  what  seems  to  be  a  continuous  range  of 
mountains,  the  distance  sealing  up  the  break  which 
occurs  at  Harper's  Ferry,  leaving  the  gazer  wondering 
how  the  barrier  may  be  surmounted.  So  the  unbroken 
outline  stretches  its  serpentine  length  along,  its  deep 
blue  hue  clearly  defined  against  the  lighter  color  of 
the  sky.  But  turning  to  the  south  the  eye  encounters 
a  change  in  the  continuity  of  outline ;  the  mountain 
range,  instead  of  carrying  out  its  imagined  object  of 
enclosing  this  small  garden-spot  of  cultivated  fields, 
waving  groves  and  smiling  villages  within  its  giant 
embrace,  stretches  its  long  arms  onward  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach ;  and  like  a  divorced  marriage  which  in 
2 


2  WOM£:^'',  OB  CHRONICLES 

its  union  has  had  but  one  aim,  the  embrace  and  pro- 
tection of  the  household  hearth,  no\y,  instead  of  meet- 
ing, turns  aside,  separates,  and  the  two  "waving  outlines 
creep  along  parallel  but  never  touching,  sometimes  as 
though  old  associations  were  too  strong  to  be  resisted, 
drawing  nearer  until  even  the  individual  features  can 
be  distinguished  the  one  by  the  other,  and  then  start- 
ing away  with  a  sigh  which  breathes  through  the  trees, 
and  as  if  by  mutual  consent  the  breach  is  widened  and 
the  separation  complete,  whilst  smiling  ]SI"ature  laughs 
and  dances  between. 

About  twenty  miles  from  Winchester  the  chain  on 
the  left-hand  side  seems  by  some  freak  of  Katurc  to 
have  thrown  oil  a  portion  of  ts  bulk,  forming  another 
and  shorter  ridge  which  for  its  whole  distance  runs 
parallel  with  the  other,  thus  making  three  mountain 
ranges  and  two  valleys.  The  longer  of  the  two,  ex- 
tending almost  through  the  entire  length  of  Virginia, 
is  called  the  Yalley  of  the  Shenandoah,  and  the  other 
the  Scott  or  Massanutten  Valley ;  and  where  the  two 
valleys  are  merged  into  one  by  the  sudden  breaking  off 
of  the  Massanutten  Mountain,  for  so  the  short  ridge  is 
called,  the  two  villages  of  Front  Eoyal  and  Strasburg 
are  built,  about  six  miles  apart,  and  the  Shenandoah 
river  winds  like  a  silver  thread  far  away  until  it  is  lost 
in  the  misty  distance. 

]Srothing  can  exceed  the  beauty  and  fertilit}^  of  this 
most  favored  region.  It  might  be  the  "Happy  Yalley" 
of  Rasselas,  with  everything  to  charm  the  senses  and 
lull  into  peace  and  contentment  the  dweller  upon  its  soil. 
Eut  alas !  how  at  war  with  its  appearance  have  been 
its  experiences,  for  ever  since  the  first  settlement  of 
the  State,  has  the  Yalley  of  Virginia  taken  a  prominent 


m 

NcU 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  3 

placo  in  its  stiiTinf;;  find  bloody  scenes.  It  was  in  tlicso 
mountains  that  the  dispossessed  tribes  of  Indians  found 
their  last  refuge  on  the  soil  of  Virginia,  and  old  men 
will  now  tell  you  of  scenes  of  horror  handed  down  one 
generation,  of  the  terror  of  the  war-whoop  and  the 
fearful  revenge  of  the  savage  upon  women  and  chil- 
dren. And  later,  if  those  mountains,  those  hoary  wit- 
nesses of  the  changes  wrought  by  time  could  speak, 
they  would  tell  how  many  a  hunted  soldier  of  the 
Revolution  sought  safety  and  shelter  amongst  its 
recesses ;  and  history  points  out  one  spot  so  walled  in 
by  these  bulwarks  of  Nature,  that  General  Washington 
is  said  to  have  marked  it  out  as  the  last  retreat  for  the 
army  of  the  dying  republic  should  victory  quite  desert 
his  standard,  and  here  like  Leouidas  of  old  would  he  lead 
the  "  forlorn  hope,"  and  if  they  might  no  longer  fight  for 
their  countrj^'s  freedom  they  might  here  find  heroes' 
graves,  and  the  immortal  spot  descend  in  the  pages  of 
history  side  by  side  with  the  Thermopylse  of  the  Greeks. 

But  we  have  unconsciously  wandered  far  away  from 
the  place  from  whence  avo  started,  which  is  of  more 
immediate  interest  to  us, 

Winchester,  resting  so  peacefully  in  the  hollow  at 
the  base  of  her  seven  hills,  the  brows  of  which  are 
dotted  with  dwellings  surrounded  by  their  old  forest 
trees,  while  hero  and  there  a  Lombardy  poplar  rears 
its  giant  height  with  ungraceful  stiffness,  valued  not 
for  its  beauty  but  from  the  power  of  old  association, 
which  makes  so  many  objects  destitute  of  either  grace 
or  beauty  so  dear  to  our  hearts. 

Coming  up  the  valley  from  the  south,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  town  we  are  met  by  a  curious  old  "  foot-print  in 
tho  sands  of  time"  in  the  shape  of  an  Indian  legend. 


4  WOMEN,  OR  CURONIGLES 

It  is  connected  with  a  beautiful  spring  gushing  out 
of  the  limestone  rock  which  still  bears  the  name  of 
"Shawnee  Spring; "  and  we  are  told  how  the  old  Avar- 
riors  of  the  Shawnee  tribe  used  here  to  bow  their 
plumed  heads  to  drink  of  its  cool  waters,  imbibing  Avith 
each  draught  a  firmer  belief  in  the  legend  of  their 
tribe,  that  whoever  quenched  his  thirst  thus  and  there, 
although  fate  might  lead  him  many  a  mile  away  from 
the  familiar  spot,  here  he  Av^ould  return  to  die,  the 
arroAV  of  the  red  man  and  the  powder  of  the  Avhite, 
being  alike  powerless  to  sap  away  the  life  which  could 
only  be  rendered  up  within  reach  of  its  charmed 
waters.  And  wo  can  imagine  the  poor  dispossessed 
sovereign  of  the  soil,  wounded  and  footsore,  dragging 
his  wear}^  length  towards  this  Mecca  of  his  pilgrimage, 
and  Avhen  at  last  the  gushing  stream  meets  his  failing 
eye  he  lays  him  down  to  die  Avith  the  rippling  of  the 
Avaters  as  his  only  requiem. 

The  only  other  object  of  especial  interest  to  the 
collector  of  these  autographs  of  time,  to  which  Ave  Avill 
point,  is  the  site  of  old  Fort  Loudoun,  which  Avas  built, 
BO  history  informs  us,  after  Braddock's  defeat;  Colonel 
George  Washington  retiring  to  this  spot,  and  not  only 
choosing  the  situation  as  suitable  to  his  purpose,  but 
himself  purchasing  the  lot  and  superintending  the 
building,  even  bringing  his  own  blacksmith  from  Mount 
Yernon  to  do  Avhat  came  Avitbin  his  lino  of  business. 

The  fort  has  long  ago  crumbled  aAvay,  but  you  are 
still  pointed  to  the  well  which  supplied  the  wants  of  the 
ixarrison,  and  the  ru2;2:ed  abutments  which  are  all  that 
remain  of  the  fortifications  thrown  up  by  the  soldiers 
themselves.  The  main  street  of  the  town  now  passes 
through  Avhat  Avas  once  the  centre  of  the  fort,  and  sub- 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  5 

stantial  looking  dwellings,  covering  the  site,  obliterate 
all  traces  of  the  more  warlike  biiiklings  of  long  ago. 

Our  story  opens  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1861,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  four  years'  struggle,  between  the  two 
sections  of  our  country,  which  ended  so  disastrously 
for  the  Southern  States,  and  \vhose  effects  are  still  so 
sadly  felt  through  the  whole  country. 

On  the  12th  of  April,  ISGl,  was  the  first  gun  of  the 
Tvar  fired  at  Charleston ;  and  its  echoeS;  instead  of  dying 
away,  reverberated  through  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  land,  awakening  a  menacing  note  of  defiance  w^hich, 
like  muttering  thunder,  now  low,  then  louder  and  louder, 
rolled  through  the  ominous  clouds  which  overshadowed 
our  political  horizon,  portending  a  storm  of  extraordi- 
nary violence;  indications  hailed  by  some  with  reckless 
triumph  and  by  others  with  sad  forebodings,  "who  with 
prophetic  qjq,  viewed  the  long  vista  of  horrors  which 
the  fierce  hurricane  would  launch  upon  our  devoted 
heads.  Everywhere  the  busy  note  of  preparation  was 
heard.  The  ploughshare  was  exchanged  for  the  sword 
and  the  pruning-hook  for  the  spear.  Even  the  women 
took  their  part,  and  the  busy  needle  was  plied  in  pre- 
paring garments  for  the  new-made  soldiers ;  delicate 
hands  fingered  the  coarse  yarn,  and  the  untutored 
fingers,  taught  by  earnestness  of  purpose,  fashioned  the 
rough  sock  which  was  to  be  worn  away  in  long,  tedious 
marches. 

But  those  were  the  holiday  times  of  the  war.  ]N*ot 
a  drop  of  blood  liad  been  shed;  and  who  ever  realises 
an  evil  without  experience  as  a  guide?  There  is  some- 
thing exhilarating  in  the  bravery  which  will  dare  a 
great  danger;  and  hot  blood,  surging  in  3'outhful  veins, 
brought  thousands  from  luxurious  homes,  joyful  volun- 
teers in  tlio  battle  for  rio-ht. 


6  WOJIE^\  OB  CHRONICLES 

Poor  boys!  What  could  they  know  of  the  trials 
before  them,  the  exposure  of  the  camp,  the  toilsome 
march,  the  fever  Avhich  too  often  sapped  avray  life 
before  an  enemy  was  seen,  and  the  horrors  of  the 
battle-field?  With  their  ardent  gaze  they  saw  but  the 
path  of  glory  strewn  with  immortelles,  and  forgot  that 
"the  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave,"  *•  Hope 
told  a  flattering  tale,"  and  was  heard  by  credulous  ears. 
And  the  women  waved  them  on  to  the  conflict,  shedding 
their  brightest  smiles  and  clieering  them  to  victory 
with  their  syren  voices;  and  so  they  went  dancing  to 
their  death,  to  the  music  of  the  murderous  cannon  and 
the  crackling  musketry. 

Letter  from  Miss  Ellen  Randolph  to  her  cousin, 
Mrs.  Murray. 

WixcHESTEU,  June  1st,  1861. 

My  dear  Margie, —  I  feel  very  much  ashamed 
when  I  think  how  long  jowy  letter  has  been  un- 
answered, particular!}"  when  I  consider  that  3'ou  have 
been  in  trouble;  but  the  fact  is,  we  live  in  such  a  state 
of  excitement  that  I  neglect  all  of  my  duties.  You 
would  not  know  old  Winchester  if  3'ou  could  sec  it  now. 
Our  quiet,  humdrum  lives  are  at  an  end,  and  we  hardly 
recognise  ourselves  in  the  change.  Iso  one  has  time 
for  anything;  it  is  soldiers,  soldiers  from  morning  to 
night.  Old  Mrs.  Brown  (you  remember  her)  announced 
to  me  the  other  day  that  her  house  being  small  she 
could  only  slceio  eight,  but  she  ate  iliiriy  at  each  meal! 
Just  imagine  what  cannibalism,  and  we  are  as  bad,  for 
the  house  is  full  of  them  all  the  time ;  and  every  minute 
is  spent  either  sewing  for  soldiers,  knitting  for  soldiers, 
nursing  sick   soldiers,   talking  to   soldiers,  singing  to 


OF  THE  LATE    WAR.  7 

soldiers,  and  —  shall  I  confess  it? —  thinlcing  of  soldiers. 
If  this  were  all  of  war  I  would  think  it  delightful ;  but 
unfortunately  I  cannot  quito  forget  that  the  time  must 
come  before  long  when  these  dear  boys  will  go  to  more 
serious  work. 

We  enjoy  having  Mary  vrith  us  so  much.  She  is  so 
bright  and  joyous,  and  the  greatest  belle  you  ever  saw. 
Half  of  the  Confederate  army  stationed  at  this  point 
are  thinking  as  much  of  the  darts  from  her  eyes  as  of 
any  strokes  from  the  Yankees.  She  certainly  does 
have  a  nice  time.  She  rides  with  the  cavalry,  drives 
with  the  artillery,  and  walks  with  the  infantry,  and  I 
must  confess  it,  flirts  equally  with  all. 

JSTow,  my  circumspect  cousin,  don't  open  your  black 
eyes  in  that  astounded  way.  She  don't  mean  one  bit  of 
harm.  It  is  born  in  her,  and  I  don't  believe  she  even 
knows  she  does  it.  She  likes  them  all,  and  in  the 
sweet  joyousness  of  her  temper  wants  to  please  them 
all,  and  she  succeeds  She  is  a  dear  child,  and  no  one 
shall  scold  her  if  I  can  help  it. 

It  is  so  delightful  to  have  the  boys  here.  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  John  and  Harry  the  day  they 
passed  through  on  their  way  to  Harper's  Ferry.  Such 
children  Margie!  it  seemed  so  pitiful.  But  they  were 
perfectly  radiant  with  happiness.  They  rushed  in  on 
us  one  morning  when  mother  and  myself  were  washing 
the  tea-things,  and  it  was  as  bad  as  being  hugged  by  a 
couple  of  young  cubs.  I  did  not  get  my  breath  for  five 
minutes  to  inquire: 

''  What  upon  the  earth  are  you  doing  here  dressed  that 
way  ?  "  (They  had  on  red  flannel  shirts  as  an  apology 
for  uniforms.) 

"Fighting,"  said  Harry. 


8  WOMEN,  on    CHRONICLES 

"  Kissing  you,  Nell,"  said  John,  as  he  repeated  the 
operation;  "and  I  tell  you  it  is  a  great  relief  to  my 
pent-up  Utiea.  I  have  not  seen  a  girl  I  could  kiss  for 
Dearly  nine  months.     It's  right  hard  on  a  fellow  1  ^* 

^'  Pshaw!"  I  said,  "don't  bo  a  gooso  if  you  can  help 
it.  Tell  me  what  you  came  for.  I  thought  you  were 
studying  hard  at  the  University,  and  here  you  walk 
in  upon  me,  dressed  for  all  the  world  like  firemen !  So 
do  bo  satisfactory  for  once  and  tell  me  what  it  all 
means." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  know,"  said  Johnny,  with  mock 
pomposity,  sticking  his  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes  of  his 
shirt  and  swaggering  up  and  down  the  room,  "the 
Southern  Confederacy,  after  an  existence  of  a  few 
weeks,  concluded  that  matters  Avere  in  a  bad  way  unless 
they  could  draw  Mr.  John  Holcombe  from  his  retire- 
ment and  give  him  a  position  of  responsibility  suited 
to  his  —  well — to  his — ah  —  talents  and  acquirements. 
The  rest  can  be  guessed.  !My  ambition  is  fully  grati- 
fied, so  here  I  am/' 

"What  appointment?"  I  asked. 

"High  private  in  the  rear  ranks,  with  the  j^ermission 
to  make  myself  a  General  as  soon  as  possible." 

They  went  off  to  Harper's  Ferry  that  night.  "We 
all  walked  down  to  the  cars  to  see  them,  of  course 
imagining  that  they  would  find  bloody  graves  before 
their  return.  But  I  must  tell  you  a  fanny  thing  about 
this.  Betsey,  my  maid,  went  down  with  us,  and  as  we 
stood  in  the  street  watching  those  poor  little  boys  —  for 
they  were  nothing  more  —  the  tears  came  into  my  eyes 
as  I  thought  how  few!  and  how  young!  to  go  on  such 
serious  business.  Betsey  interrupted  my  thoughts  by 
saying ; 


OF  TUB  LATB  WAR,  9 

''Now  I  tell  you,  Miss  Ellen,  won't  Mr.  Linkum  feel 
hisself  sot  down  when  ho  see  all  dis  army  comin'?  " 

I  could  not  help  laughing  heartily  to  think  how 
small  a  way  they  would  go  to  that  much  to-be-desired 
result. 

Colonel  Murray  comes  to  see  us  very  often  and  tells 
us  a  great  deal  about  you  all ;  he  says  you  were  a  regu- 
lar Spartan  wife,  and  buckled  on  his  s^vord  for  the  con- 
flict. I  don't  know  how  you  could  have  done  it.  I 
feel  like  putting  my  arms  out  and  holding  them  all 
back  from  the  danger.  And  yet  I  should  despise  them 
if  they  consented.  My  principles  are  strong,  but  I 
think  my  nerves  are  timid. 

I  wish  Uncle  Ned  was  with  this  part  of  the  army, 
though  I  expect  Aunt  Jean  is  very  glad  to  have  him 
away  from  the  border.  I  am  glad  Uncle  George,  Mr. 
Marshall  and  himself  are  together.  Cousin  Mary  is 
with  Cousin  Cynthia,  and  Auntie  says  she  will  go  when 
they  establish  Jiospitals  in  Eichmond.  She  can't  leave 
now.  She  is  perfectly  indefatigable,  and  they  say  does 
the  poor  fellows  more  good  than  all  of  the  doctors. 

One  of  our  enterprises  is  our  "hospital  kitchen," 
which  means  simply  that  the  ladies  have  rented  a  room 
and  take  turns  in  going  down  to  it  each  day  to  prepare 
delicacies  for  the  sick,  and  the  doctors  send  there  for 
such  food  as  the  men  ought  to  have.  TV"e  enjoy  it  very 
much,  though  sometimes  it  is  right  warm.  I  am  be- 
coming a  famous  cook. 

But,  dear  Margie,  I  have  written  you  a  perfect 
volume.  Please  return  my  favor  m  kind  and  degree. 
I  want  to  see  your  dear  handwriting  once  more,  and 
Captain  Murray  is  so  jealous  of  your  letters  that  he 
never  will  let  me  see  a  line,  or  even  read  them  to  me 
2* 


10  WOJIEX,  OB   CURONICLES 

You  ought  to  hear  the  account  he  gives  of  the  hoy ; 
of  course  there  never  was  such  a  baby.  How  I  should 
love  to  see  you  both ! 

Give  my  love  to  dear  Aunt  Jean,  and  a  kiss  to  little 
Eddy,  and  receive  for  yourself  the  devoted  love  of 
your  cousin, 

Ellen  Eandolpu. 

LettePv  fkom:  Mes.  MrRiiAY  to  Miss  RANDOLPn. 

Rose  Hill,  June  5lh,  1861. 

Dear  Nell, —  If  you  could  have  seen  the  joy  with 
which  the  sight  of  your  handwriting  was  greeted,  you 
would  be  tempted  to  send  it  to  us  oftener.  Captain 
Murray,  of  course,  writes  constantly,  but  he  has  too 
much  to  ask  about,  to  tell  a  great  deal,  and  the  little 
insight  you  give  us  into  family  concerns  is  very  delight- 
ful. It  is  true  Mary  writes  every  now  and  then,  but 
it  is  really  amusing  to  see  how  she  can  make  up  a  letter 
without  telling  anything  we  want  to  know.  She  is 
non  compos  I  think  just  now.  Well,  let  her  skim  the 
cream  of  her  life  before  it  sours ;  I  would  not  change 
with  her. 

Mamma  and  myself  could  but  draw  the  contrast  be- 
tween your  lives  of  activity  and  ours  of  stagnation. 
We  seem  to  be  completely  cut  off  from  the  world.  We 
see  no  one,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  mail  I  don't  know 
how  we  would  exist.  Mamma  manages  to  keep  her- 
self busy  as  usual,  and  I  see  her  now  from  my  window 
with  that  same  little  red  and  white  key-basket,  which 
you  used  to  say  had  learned  to  look  like  her,  wending 
her  way  down  to  the  hen-house.  I  judge  this  last  by 
her  company,  as  Aunt  Aggy  is  behind  her  with  her 
crock  of  "/eetZ."    I  will  give  you  a  picture  of  mamma,  as 


OF  THE  LATE  WAll.  11 

I  know  you  want  to  see  her;  indeed,  I  will  upon  second 
considcrfition  paint  the  whole  group. 

Mamma  has  not  grown  taller,  but  wider,  and  her  dear 
little  figure  is  draped  in  a  purple  calico,  with  a  ruffled 
white  apron  and  along  %vhite  cambric  sun-bonnet  — 
everything  about  her  of  course  the  pink  of  neatness. 
I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  her  hen-nurse.  Aunt 
Aggy,  whose  attire  is  more  picturesque  than  pretty  or 
cleanly,  her  blu43  cotton  dress  being  better  acquainted 
with  the  soil  than  is  quite  becoming,  and  so  short  as 
to  display  her  feet  and  ankles,  to  great  disadvantage. 
The  brightest  streak  of  sunshine  in  the  group,  however, 
is  Eddy,  riding  his  stick  horse  and  prancing  and  cur- 
vetting in  the  most  enthusiastic  way ;  it  seems  to  be  a 
very  fiery  steed,  judging  from  his  efforts  to  hold  it  in. 
If  I  had  not  seen  him  overcome  greater  dangers  in  this 
line,  I  would  be  apprehensive  of  some  serious  accident. 
He  is  a  beautiful  boy,  with  his  long  flaxen  curls,  rosy 
cheeks  and  black  eyes,  and  is  a  great  amusement  to  the 
household  ;  of  course  he  is  an  enthusiastic  Confederate, 
and  his  threats  against  the  Yankees,  who  have  come 
down,  he  thinks,  for  the  special  purpose  of  putting  an 
end  to  his  "  Papa,"  are  dire. 

But,  "  Cousin  Ellen,"  well  you  may  wish  to  see  *^the 
hoy ;  "  it  is  a  privilege  you  can't  enjoy  every  day.  That 
blessing  is  reserved  for  his  ''Mamma."  Without 
partiality,  I  will  say  he  is  the  most  splendid  baby  I  ever 
saw,  and  every  day  he  learns  some  new  way  which  is 
more  beautiful  than  the  last.  If  his  dear  joapa  could 
just  see  him  I  I  miss  him  so  in  everything,  but  espe- 
cially with  the  baby. 

You  ask  me  how  I  could  send  my  husband  off  to  the 
arm^^      I  ask  myself  twenty  times  a  day  the  same 


12  WOMEN,  OR  CURONICLES 

question.  Surely  if  any  one  might  have  been  excused 
he  Tvas  that  one  —  a  foreigner,  and  so  short  a  time  a 
resident.  But  then  we  thought  Virginia,  is  my  State, 
and  therefore  his.  If  she  had  continued  prosperous  he 
■would  have  enjoyed  her  prosperity'.  And  would  it 
have  been  right  for  him,  or  for  me,  to  take  advantage 
of  a  mere  subterfuge  to  avoid  the  danger  ?  ^o !  I 
feel  sure  we  were  right  in  our  decision,  but  as  if  my 
heart  had  been  torn  out  by  the  roots  in  making  it.  I 
require  him  so  all  the  time.  I  get  wrong  when  he  is 
away  from  me ;  he  is  my  ''  better  half"  in  more  ways 
than  one,  Nell. 

I  can  imagine  Aunty  at  the  hospitals ;  it  is  just  the 
life  for  her.  Bless  her  dear  heart !  how  I  should  love  to 
see  her,  and  Aunt  Mary  also.  I  envy  you  your  busy 
lives.  It  is  so  hard  to  sit  still  and  do  nothing,  except 
the  work  which  would  be  ours  in  ordinary  times. 

How  is  all  this  to  end  ?  Of  course  I  never  doubt  our 
success  for  an  instant.  God  helps  the  right;  but  wo 
are  so  vitally  interested  in  immediate  results.  Every 
man  of  our  family  is  in  the  field,  besides  so  many 
friends.  I  feel  afraid  to  look  forward.  Mr.  Murray  says 
there  must  be  a  great  battle  soon.  How  will  we  ever 
bear  the  sound  of  the  guns !  I  have  to  exert  myself 
upon  mamma's  account,  she  is  so  dreadfully  depressed. 
I  cannot  believe  that  for  the  present  papa  is  safe.  He 
writes,  as  usual,  cheerfully  and  hopefully,  and  I  expect 
Uncle  George  and  himself  enjoy  each  other  in  spite  of 
the  times. 

Mammy  is  very  well,  and  quite  indignant  at  all  this 
fuss  to  set  her  free.  I  don't  believe  she  would  ever 
leave  us.  I  am  not  so  certain  about  the  rest.  The 
love  of  freedom  is  very  strong  in  the  human  heart. 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAJl. 


13 


AVel],  if  they  will  be  better  off,  I  for  my  part  am  very 
willing,  though  it  would  grieve  me  for  them  to  be  uii- 
fliithful.  The  tie  between  master  and  servant  is  very 
binding,  and  can  only  be  broken  by  a  great  wrench. 

But  I  must  stop.  Love  to  all.  Tell  Mary  mamma 
eays  don't  run  any  chance  of  being  left  in  the  lines  if 
our  army  should  retreat.  She  will  send  the  carriage 
for  her  at  any  rate  next  week. 

Good-bye.     Write  soon  to  your  devoted  cousin, 

Margaret  Murray. 


14  TFOJf^iV,  OR  CHROmCLES 


CHAPTEE   II. 

*'  Beautiful  as  sweet  ! 
And  young  as  beautiful  !     And  soft  as  younfrl 
And  gay  as  soft !     And  innocent  as  gay  !  " — YouxG. 

It  Tvas  the  season  of  the  year  when  the  bud  and  blos- 
som of  early  spring,  so  often  delusive  in  its  beauty  be- 
cause of  nipping  frosts,  gives  place  to  the  more  certain 
promise  of  early  summer.  Tree  and  shrub  hung  thick 
with  young  fruit ;  the  flowers  —  those  "  bright  mosaics  " 
of  Kature  —  tessellated  her  floor  with  their  luxurious 
bloom ; 

"  The  happy  grass 
"Was  sprinkled  wiih  the  o'er-blo\yn  leaves 
Of  wild  white  roses." 

The  waving  fields  of  grain  began  to  assume  that  golden 
hue  which  invites  the  sickle.  The  sky  was  cloudless, 
save  in  the  western  horizon,  where  the  orb  of  day,  now 
near  its  setting,  approached  its  gorgeous  couch  of 
purple  and  gold.  Clouds  piled  themselves  on  clouds 
mountain  high,  now  assuming  the  appearance  of  a 
many-towered  city,  and  then  flying  on  the  wings  of  the 
evening  breeze  to  feed  the  imagination  of  the  beholder 
by  rolling  themselves  into  other  and  more  fanciful 
shapes,  whilst  the  prodigal  sun  lavished  upon  them 
his  brightest  beams,  until  in  gratitude  they  reflected 
back  the  glory  shed,  and  danced  and  glittered  in  the 
borrowed  light. 

It  was  a  scene  which,  if  witnessed  but  once  in  a  life- 
time, would  fill  God's  creatures  with  awe  and  praise ; 


OF  Tim  LATB  WAR.  15 

but  becauso  "  lie  maketh  His  sun  to  shine  on  the  evil 
and  on  the  good,"  because  lie  repeats  His  blessings  to 
them  daily,  they  are  passed  by  unnoticed,  or  without 
even  an  aspiration  of  thanksgiving. 

The  streets  of  the  little  town  of  Winchester,  bore  a 
strangely  busy  appearance  to  those  who  could  contrast 
it  with  its  former  condition  of  chronic  quietness,  where 
the  greatest  excitement  had  been  the  arrival  of  the 
daily  mail,  or  an  occasional  marriage  or  death  in  its 
community.  Now  prancing  steeds  were  seen  coming 
and  going  in  all  directions,  whilst  their  riders  in  their 
gay  uniforms  of  gray  and  gold,  presented  a  gallant  ap- 
pearance as  they  dashed  along  the  streets,  looking  a 
part  of  the  animals  they  bestrode,  and  gracefully  re- 
turned the  greetings  bestowed  from  tae  various  win- 
dows and  porches  as  they  passed  along. 

In  the  distance,  white  conical  tents  gleamed  through 
the  groves,  betraying  the  situation  of  the  diiferent  en- 
campments ;  whilst  the  road  in  every  direction  was 
studded  with  array  wagons,  whose  soiled  covers  and 
meagre-looking  draught  animals,  already  showed  that 
the  Avar  was  not  in  its  first  stage. 

Nor  was  the  air  of  bus}'  preparation  confined  to  the 
town,  for  in  one  field  was  an  artillery  company  going 
through  its  drill,  in  the  next  enclosure  a  cavalry  regi- 
ment performed  its  evolutions,  whilst  the  infantry 
''shouldered  arms''  and  "presented  arms"  at  every 
turn. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  town  from  the  north  stands 
a  large  red  hrick  dwelling-house,  built  upon  what  was 
one  corner  of  old  Fort  Washington.  It  is  rather  a 
sombre-looking  building  in  spite  of  its  evident  and  at- 
tractive homelike  aspect;  its  brick  walls  have  darkened 


16  WOMBX,  on  CUBOyiCLES 

from  age,  and  the  brown  paint  of  window-blinds  and 
porch  does  not  tend  to  brighten  its  appearance.  On 
both  sides  of  the  entrance,  however,  a  sunny  green  j^ard 
j)resents  an  inviting  scene  to  the  visitor,  and  tho 
row  of  trees  in  front  throws  a  grateful  shade. 

Sitting  in  the  porch,  enjoying  the  beauty  of  the  set- 
ting sun,  is  a  family  i^arty,  to  whom  I  wish  to  present 
my  reader  as  containing  some  important  dramatis 
jpersonce  connected  with  this  story. 

The  party  consists  of  four  persons  —  an  old  lady; 
another  who  has  passed  middle  age,  but  whose  youth- 
ful appearance  forbids  our  describing  her  as  old  ;  a 
young  girl;  and  a  youth  in  the  Confederate  uniform  of 
a  private  soldier. 

The  spokesman  of  the  party  is  the  old  lady,  who  al- 
though she  has  the  "  crown  of  glory  "  which  entitles 
her  to  the  highest  honors  of  time,  yet  by  a  certain 
youthful  brightness  of  manner,  an  impulse  and  earn- 
estness of  speech  accompanied  by  animated  gestures, 
manages  to  combine  with  it  the  charm  of  youth.  And 
here  let  me  pause  to  say,  that  there  is  but  one  thing 
more  beautiful  than  a  beautiful  youth,  and  that  is  a 
beautiful  old  age  —  as  the  fruit  which  has  stood  the 
storm  and  the  burning  suns  of  an  entire  season,  reaches 
its  highest  and  richest  maturity  just  before  it  falls  to 
the  ground. 

She  is  evidently  detailing  some  experience  which  ex- 
cites the  amusement  of  the  rest. 

"  He  was  a  poor,  miserable  looking  fellow,"  she  said, 
"who  several  days  ago  excited  my  commiseration  by 
his  wretched  appearance  ;  but  when  I  came  to  examine 
him  I  found  it  was  only  a  case  of  desperate  home-sick- 
ness.   By-the-bye,  these  poor  North  Carolinians  die  of  it 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAR.  17 

often;  To-day  as  soon  as  ho  saw  mo  ho  called  me  to 
him,  and  told  mo  in  his  most  mournful  tones  that  he 
Avas  convinced  that  his  time  had  come  !  I  tried  to 
raise  his  spirits  and  relieve  him  of  the  impression  which 
I  was  sure  was  an  erroneous  one,  but  it  Avas  no  use; 
die  he  would  in  spite  of  me,  and  he  ended  by  confiding 
to  my  care  this  little  box,  which  I  was  to  convey  to  his 
mother  at  the  earliest  moment,  as  his  latest  bequest. 
!N'ow  I  want  you  all  to  guess  what  it  is,"  and  she  held 
up  before  them  a  small  black  box  about  two  inches 
square. 

*'  Jewelry,"  suggested  the  lady  beside  her. 

'':n'o." 

"  Money,"  guessed  the  young  man,  taking  the  box 
from  her. 

"  No." 

"A  lock  of  his  hair,"  said  the  dark-eyed  girl,  looking 
over  his  shoulder. 

" No,  all  wrong.  But  here  comes  Mary;  let  us  see 
"what  she  says." 

And  as  she  spoke  a  young  girl  advanced  through  the 
door-way  and  joined  the  party. 

The  sun  has  just  disappeared  behind  the  gilded  clouds, 
but  he  is  searcelj^  missed  in  the  sparkle  of  light,  life 
and  joy  which  greets  us  in  this  youthful  figure,  she 
might  aptly  be  crowned  with  early  flowers  and  stand 
as  the  very  impersonation  of  Spring.  Her  figure  is 
about  the  medium  height,  beautifully  rounded  and 
proportioned  from  the  graceful  throat  to  the  tiny  foot 
which  peeps  from  beneath  the  folds  of  her  skirt.  Her 
dress  is  of  a  soft  violet  color  of  some  gossamer  texture, 
and  the  loose  sleeves  falling  back  disclose  arms  and 
hands,  white,  soft  and  dimpled  as  an  infant's. 


18  WOJIEX,  OR  CHRONICLES 

Dark  eyes,  which  in  this  mirthful  moment  strike  you 
as  full  of  brilliancy,  but  looking  into  their  depths  there 
is  a  melting  softness  tempering  their  fire  which  wins 
on  the  instant;  cheeks  glowing  like  the  innermost 
leaves  of  the  Herraosa  rose,  and  a  skin  of  dazzling  fair- 
ness; but  the  crowning  feature  after  all  in  this  picture 
of  rare  loveliness,  is  the  hair.  Turn  not  away  fair 
reader,  in  disgust  and  disappointment,  but  the  graceful 
head  is  adorned  with  ripples  of  red  hair.  An  effort 
has  been  made  to  catch  and  restrain  this  unruly  mem- 
ber, to  place  it  in  bonds  and  reduce  it  to  submission  ; 
but  it  seems  to  laugh  at  the  futile  effort,  escaping  at 
every  point,  curling  itself  in  a  ringlet  against  the  white 
throat,  rippling  in  waves  over  the  head,  and  ringing 
itself  Aipon  the  broad  brow,  besides  establishing  a  kind 
of  halo  of  gold  outside  of  its  more  substantial  works, 
and  forming  a  beautiful  bronze  frame-work  for  the 
mirthful  young  face. 

The  story  of  the  home-sick  soldier  was  told  her,  and 
the  box  consigned  to  her  hands  with  many  an  injunc- 
tion to  ''  guess  fair  and  not  peep,"  which  she  tried 
i-xithfully  to  do,  holding  it  before  her  eyes,  shaking 
it  by  her  ear,  and  applying  it  to  her  nose,  but  no  light 
was  thrown  on  the  mystery. 

*'I  have  tried  three  of  my  senses  v\'ithout  gaining 
an  idea;  now  tell  me.  Aunt  Annie,  which  of  the  other 
two  would  decide  the  matter  soonest." 

Mrs.  Mason   laughed  merrily  as  she  answered,   "  It 

has  more  to  do  with  the  taste  than  anything  else." 
"  Then  of  course  it  is  something  to  eat,"  said  Mary. 

'-  Ah,  I  have  it  at  last !  "  clapping  her  hands  gleefully. 

'^  C4cnerous  boy!  he  has  sent  his  last  rations  to   his 

mother;  this  box  is  just  about  large  enough  to  hold 

them." 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  19 

A  general  laugh  followed  this  sall}^,  and  the  guess 
being  pronounced  a  failure,  Mrs.  Mason  opened  the  box 
and  disclosed  to  view  a  full  set  o?  false  teeth. 

The  mirth  became  uproarious  at  the  unexpected  so- 
lution of  the  mystery,  which  was  interrupted  by  the 
sudden  change  from  merriment  to  a  soft  anxiety  in 
Mary's  face  as  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Mason  and  said: 

"  Poor  fellow  !     Aunty,  he  did  not  die,  did  he  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  was  the  answer;  "  he  ^vill  be  better  to-mor- 
row. I  told  him,  by  ^vay  of  rousing  him,  that  he  must 
come  up  here  and  get  his  dinner,  and  I  would  make 
you  girls  sing  and  play  for  him." 

"  But,  Auntie,"  the  face  smiling  all  over  once  more, 
"he  must  have  his  teeth  before  he  comes  to  dinner." 

"  Oh  yes  !  he  shall  have  them  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning.     But  here  comes  George." 

As  she  spoke,  a  tall,  light-haired  young  man  ap- 
proached the  house  on  horseback,  and  leaping  off,  tied 
his  steed  to  the  tree  and  came  towards  them,  his  spurs 
clanking  against  the  pavement  as  he  walked. 

*'  Well,  Dr.,"  queried  John,  "  off  duty  for  the  day  ?  " 

*"Ko,  indeed,"  was  the  answer;  "  when  is  a  Dr.  off 
duty?     I  would  rather  be  an  ambulance-driver." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  said  Mary,  as  she  ac- 
cepted his  greeting;  "is  the  service  of  our  country  be- 
coming tiresome?  From  the  ardor  with  which  we  volun- 
teered I  thought  we  would  never  weary.  I  feel  dis- 
couraged." 

Mary  was  too  pretty  not  to  bo  smiled  upon,  even  in 
her  most  provoking  mood,  but  it  was  only  a  reluctant 
smile  as  ho  said  : 

"Ah  well,  I  am  tired  of  this  utter  stagnation.  I  vol- 
unteered to  fight,  not  to  sit  down  hero  and  see  the  men 


20  WOM£y,  OR  CHRONICLES 

who  have  come  from  their  homes  to  shed  their  blood, 
if  need  be,  for  their  country,  die  like  dogs  in  this  mis- 
erable place." 

*'I  am  sorry  wo  have  no  better  to  offer  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Eandoli)h. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  you  had  seen,  as  I  have,  six  men 
carried  out  to-day  —  brave,  daring  young  fellows,  who 
left  their  homes  so  full  of  hope  and  life,  and  not  even 
to  have  an  opportunity  to  fight." 

'^  It  is  dreadful !  "  was  the  general  exclamation, 

"  Yes,  and  the  worst  of  it  is  I  don't  see  any  help  for  it. 
There  may  be,  shut  up  in  General  Johnston's  head  ;  but 
no  one  else  sees  it,  and  he  keeps  it  to  himself.  I  tell 
you  if  there  is  not  an  active  campaign  soon  I  believe 
that  a  third  of  these  men  will  die;  they  get  sick,  and 
there  don't  seem  to  be  much  the  matter  with  them, 
and  they  have  not  the  spirits  to  recover." 

"  Goodness,  George,"  said  Ellen,  ^'  I  never  heard  such 
a  Jeremiad  ;   it  is  enough  to  give  us  all  the  horrors  !  ' 

"  What  can  we  do  for  you,"  said  Mary,  "  to  put  a 
more  cheerful  spirit  into  you  ?  Will  you  have  a  song, 
or  your  supper,  or  indeed  anything  we  can  give  you,  to 
rouse  you  from  this  lamentable  state  of  despondenc}'? 
Even  my  new  bonnet  is  at  your  service,  and  in  these 
times  such  an  offer  is  no  contemptible  one,  I  assure 
you." 

"Well,  come  here  and  sit  by  me,  and  let  me  look  at 
you:  that  is  the  most  cheering  thing  I  can  suggest  in 
your  gift  just  now,"  was  the  laughing  answer,  as  the 
young  surgeon,  fairly  won  out  of  his  grumbling  humor, 
drew  his  pretty  cousin  to  the  seat  beside  him.  "iNow 
I  do  feel  better,  more  hopeful  and  happier  altogether." 

"  And  there  is  the  supper  bell  to  finish  the  business," 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  21 

said  Mary,  disengaging  herself  from  him.  "  More  sub- 
stantial pleasures  are  in  store  for  you,  to  which  I  lead 
the  way." 


22  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 


CnAPTEIl    III. 

"  the  neighing  steed,  and  the  shrill  trump, 

The  spirit-stiiring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife, 
The  royal  banner,  and  all  the  quiiliiy. 
Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war  ! 
And  0  yon  mortal  engines,  whose  rude  throats 
The  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit." 

SUAKSPEARB. 

"  Well,  here  you  arc  at  last/'  said  Ellen  Randolph, 
as  2\Iary  Holcombe  and  herself  stepped  from  the  porch, 
ready  accoutred  for  some  expedition,  and  advanced  to 
meet  Mrs.  Randolph  and  Mrs.  Mason,  who  approached, 
each  bearing  an  empty  basket,  whilst  Betsey  followed 
with  two  baskets  equally  destitute  of  contents. 

*'  "We  thought  you  never  would  come,"  said  Mary. 
"  Nell  and  myself  have  been  standing  here  waiting  for 
you  for  an  age." 

"Well,  what  is  the  cause  of  the  great  anxiety  to  sec 
us?"  said  Mrs.  Randolph,  whilst  Mrs.  Mason  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  pause  to  manipulate  a  large  palm-leaf 
fan,  which  by-the-bye  formed  her  coat-of-arms  from 
early  spring  to  late  autumn. 

"Wo  are  so  anxious  to  go  to  the  review,  and  have 
no  one  to  go  with  us ;  the  boys  all  have  to  be  on  the 
ground,  of  course,"  explained  Ellen. 

''Oh,  how  unfortunate!"  said  Mrs.  Randolph,  her 
usually  placid  face  clouding  ;  "  I  am  so  tired^  I  don't 
think  I  could  go  to  save  my  life.  And  besides,  your 
father  said  he  would  be  at  home  by  six  o'clock,  and  I 
must  stay  to  see  him." 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  23 

Both  girls  turned  towards  Mrs.  Mason,  while  Mary 
said  with  an  effort  not  to  look  disappointed,  "  I  think 
it  is  very  selfish  in  us  to  ask  it,  as  you  have  both  been 
so  busy  all  day.     Let's  stay  at  home,  Nell." 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Mason's  face,  under  the  salu- 
tary influence  of  the  fan,  had  assumed  a  less  flushed 
api^carance,  and  she  asked  : 
"IIow  flir  is  it?" 

"Just  there  at  the  Old  Fair  Grounds,  not  a  quarter  of 
a  mile,"  answered  both  girls,  pointing  to  an  enclosure 
where  already  large  bodies  of  troops  could  be  seen, 
mingled  with  the  gayer  clothing  of  the  other  sex. 

"  Oh  well,  I  will  go  with  you.  Just  wait  until  I  cool 
off  a  minute  and  get  some  of  the  hospital  off  of  me; 
I  don't  feel  fit  to  be  seen  now." 

"Thank  you!  thank  you!  you  dear  old  unselfish 
Aunty.  I  wonder  if  you  ever  do  think  of  yourself 
when  you  can  do  anything  for  other  people  ?  You  are 
quite  an  institution  in  these  times." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  old  lady  laughing,  as  she  walked 
towards  the  house;  "Aunty  is  very  good  just  now, 
when  you  can't  get  any  one  else ;  but  just  let  one  of 
those  dashing  young  soldiers  come  along,  and  'Aunty' 
w^ill  be  forgotten." 

"  Oh  !  for  shame  !  "  exclaimed  both  girls,  adding  with 
a  laugh  which  threw  a  doubt  upon  the  assertion,  "  We 
would  a  great  deal  rather  have  you  than  any  one 
else."  ^ 

It  did  not  take  long  for  good  Mrs.  Mason  to  make 
herself  ready,  and  a  few  minutes'  walk  brought  them 
to  the  ground,  which  presented  to  their  view  a  new 
and  interesting  scene. 

A  background  of  mountains  which     distance   had 


24  WOME^',  on  CHRONICLES 

robed  in  its  azure  hue,  against  which  was  clearly  de- 
fined the  darker  shade  of  groves  and  forests.  The  en- 
closure within  which  they  stood  consisted  of  about 
four  or  five  acres  of  level  ground,  well  suited  to  the 
2:)urpose  for  which  it  had  been  chosen.  Within  this 
space  were  collected  about  eight  thousand  men,  infan- 
try, artillery,  and  cavalry,  whose  new  uniforms  added 
not  a  little  to  the  gaiety  of  the  scene. 

Many  a  glance  was  turned  towards  our  little  party, 
and  not  a  few  salutations  were  given  from  the  ranks. 
The  infantry  stood  in  their  long  motionless  lines,  look- 
ing for  all  the  world,  Mary  said,  like  the  wooden  soldiers 
you  buy  in  little  boxes  out  of  toy-shops.  They  looked 
as  if  they  were  merged  into  one.  No  individuality,  no 
difference  ;  they  formed  one  army,  one  body  of  men. 

The  cavalry  were  deployed  on  each  side,  their  beau- 
tiful horses  pawing  and  chafing  at  the  enforced  in- 
action, and  snorting  impatiently  as  if,  like  Job's  war- 
horse,  they  '-scented  the  battle  afar  off."  In  the  rear 
the  dark  howitzers  had  their  stations,  their  sombre  ap- 
pearance well  suited  to  their  work ;  they  reminded  one 
of  the  old  guillotine,  which  was  always  hung  with  black 
when  it  dealt  its  death-blow.  The  gloom  of  their  as- 
pect was  somewhat  relieved,  however,  by  the  bright 
red  fringes  of  the  artillery  uniform. 

It  was  not  only  an  interesting  but  a  strange  sight  to 
see  so  many  gathered  on  this  little  spot  of  ground,  all 
with  one  aim  and  end  ;  and  notwithstanding  the  new 
and  cheerful  face  put  upon  it,  it  was  also  a  sad  sight. 
Here  the  various  callings  of  life  had  their  represen- 
tatives, and  rank  and  wealth  stood  side  by  side  with 
uneducated  poverty.  Man  was  man,  each  with  a  life  to 
offer  up,  each  with  a  courage  to  dare  danger.     Here 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAU,  25 

were  all  the  Southern  States  represented,  the  Lone 
Star  of  Texas  and  the  Palmetto  of  South  Carolina 
side  by  side  with  the  White  Pelican  of  Louisiana  and 
the  Sic  Semper  Tyrannis  of  Virginia,  and  all  mingling 
with  the  common  standard,  the  *•  Stars  and  Bars,"  fit 
representative  of  the  separate  sovereignty  of  each  State 
and  their  unity  of  purpose  under  one  standard.  ^'Dis- 
tinct as  the  billows,  one  as  the  sea,"  a  noble  brother- 
hood, which  adversity  but  bound  the  more  closely, 
because  cemented  by  blood,  which  is  indissoluble. 

Conspicuous  amongst  their  fellows,  even  at  this  early 
stage  of  their  career,  were  three  figures,  to  whom  I 
would  call  particular  attention,  both  because  of  their 
after-career,  which  has  introduced  them  to  the  world 
at  large,  and  that  they  will  be  often  mentioned  in  this 
story. 

On  the  right  of  the  mass  of  infantry,  and  in  front  of 
a  regiment  of  cavalry,  mounted  upon  a  jet  black  horse, 
conspicuous  for  its  beauty,  sat  a  young  man  of  slight 
wiry  figure,  below  rather  than  above  medium  height. 
There  was  a  strange  grace  in  the  poise  of  his  person ; 
and  although  his  horse  was  motionless,  no  one  could 
have  looked  at  him  without  pronouncing  him  a  master 
in  the  art  of  horsemanship. 

A  swarthy  complexion,  whose  pallor  was  rendered 
more  striking  from  the  long  black  beard  which  swept 
to  his  waist,  full  moustache  and  jetty  hair,  with  which 
mingled  the  sweeping  black  ostrich  feather  which 
drooped  from  his  military  cap.  His  manner  was  grave 
and  even  sad,  as  his  eagle  eye,  like  a  flash  of  lightning 
in  a  cloudy  sky,  roved  restlessly  in  every  direction,  as 
if  but  following  the  habit  of  his  life,  even  in  this  time  of 
inaction,  of  allowing  nothing  to  escape  ]xm  notice.     To 

3 


2G  WOMEN,  OB  CHRONICLES 

those  who  shared  this  time  of  trial  and  danger,  who  in 
this  border  warfare  remember  the  feeling  of  compar- 
ative security  when  General  Turner  Ashby  was  scouting 
in  front  of  the  army,  it  would  not  bo  worth  while  to 
name  him  ;  but  for  the  benefit  of  others  we  pronounce 
his  early  death  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  severe 
blows  our  Confederacy  suffered  in  its  first  years. 

And  now  turn  we  to  a  second  picture,  a  tall  gaunt 
figure,  ungainly  in  its  proportions,  awkward  in  its  move, 
ments,  sitting  erect  with  military  stiffness  upon  the 
saddle,  whilst  his  knees  were  drawn  up  in  an  attitude 
which,  although  it  might  possibly  have  been  comfortable, 
certainly  was  not  graceful ;  features  sharply  defined, 
a  mouth  whose  thin  lips  bespoke  an  iron  will  and  firm. 
ness  of  purpose,  and  an  eye  whose  mild  hue  was  set  at 
defiance  by  the  fire  which  gleamed  from  it  —  there  was 
that  in  the  whole  man  which  stamped  him  a  hero  of 
indomitable  courage,  inflexible  firmness,  and  resolute 
daring. 

Header,  the  portrait  is  drawn  from  one  which  is  in- 
delibly imprinted  upon  the  memory  of  every  Southern 
man  and  woman,  whose  eyes  wept  and  whose  hearts 
bled  over  his  fall  :  it  is  that  of  Colonel  Jackson,  after- 
wards General  Stonewall  Jackson,  the  Christian  soldier, 
who  to  the  genius  of  the  Great  JS^apoleon  united  the 
purity  and  integrity  of  Washington. 

The  third  figure  sat  at  a  distance  thoughtfully  re- 
viewing the  scene.  Like  Ashby,  he  was  rather  under  the 
medium  height,  but  of  stouter,  squarer  proportions, 
with  a  broad  intellectual  brow,  an  earnest  eye,  and  a 
grave,  dignified  appearance.  You  could  imagine  that 
grand  combinations  and  far-reaching  stratagems  could 
have  their  birth  in  his  brain.    His  eye  wandered  over  the 


OF  Till::  LATU    ^YAR.  27 

men,  liis  army  ;  ho  might  have  boon  gravely  poudoriag 
their  fate — who  could  foretell  it? — but  he  knew  that  a 
few  days  must  decide  it  for  many  of  them. 

Perhaps  my  reader  guesses  already  that  we  point  him 
to  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston. 

The  review  passed  pretty  much  as  all  reviews  do, 
very  imposing  and  interesting  so  long  as  the  novelty 
lasted,  but  very  tiresome  for  the  ladies  standing  in  the 
hot  sun  without  any  support  or  shelter;  and  our  party 
soon  turned  for  amusement  to  more  every-day  matters. 
'■'-  Oh  look  at  Fanny  Burwell !  she  has  a  new  hat,"  said 
Ellen.  ''I  wonder  if  she  got  it  through  the  lines?  I 
suppose  that  is  the  latest  touch.  And  my  gracious  !  if  I 
could  not  get  more  decent  clothes  than  Hattie  Ashby,  I 
would  stay  at  home  ;  she  is  a  perfect  sight." 

*'xih,  Mrs.  Mason,"  said  a  tall,  strong-minded  female 
walking  np  to  that  lady,  ^'I  intended  meeting  you 
at  your  hospital  this  morning,  but  had  to  go  off  in 
another  direction  to  see  about  some  material  to  make 
Confederate  flags  for  the  different  regiments.  I  thought 
you  would  like  me  to  come  and  read  and  talk  to  your 
poor  men.  Such  heatheus  as  they  are,  most  of  them  ! 
Actually  it  is  hard  to  believe  they  were  brought  up  in 
a  Christian  country.     But  I  will  come  to-morrow." 

"iSTever  mind,  Miss  Elizabeth,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  with 
an  effort  at  cordiality  ;  *-you  know  I  give  myself  up  to 
my  hospital,  and  so  many  of  the  men  require  perfect 
quiet  that  the  doctors  prefer  that  none  but  the  regular 
attendants  should  go  in.  Poor  boys!  many  of  them 
are  very  ignorant,  but  very  teachable." 

"AYell  now,  I  don't  find  it  so,"  was  the  answer.  "  I 
am  obliged  to  insist  upon  reading  to  them  sometimes; 
and  actuall}^  one  of  them  told  mo  yesterday,  when  I  had 


28  WO.VEy,  on   CHRONICLES 

finished  that  sweet  little  tract  on  the  Last  Judgment, 
that  he  believed  his  chance  of  heaven  was  as  good  as 
some  who  made  such  an  everlasting  talk  over  it.  Such 
depravity !  " 

The  corners  of  ^vlrs.  I\Iason's  mouth  twitched  a  little, 
while  Ellen  and  ^lary  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile. 
"  I  often  think,"  said  Mrs.  3Iason  mildly,  "  that  we  err  in 
our  zeal ;  it  requires  a  great  deal  of  wisdom  to  deal  with 
many  of  them,  and'  we  ought  to  make  religion  as  entic- 
ing and  attractive  to  them  as  we  can." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  ladj-,  '-'but  I  don't  think  wo 
ought  to  stop  for  rebuffs  or  opposition.  We  must  bo 
prepared  to  '  suffer  reproach  for  our  blaster,'  and  the 
'Kingdom  of  Heaven  suffereth  violence.' " 

"  All  that  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  *•  but  I  don't  inter- 
pret it  as  you  do.  Our  Saviour  set  us  an  example  of 
gentleness  and  love  which  we  would  do  well  to  follow. 
If  we  love  these  precious  souls  as  we  ought,  there  will 
be  no  difficulty  about  the  rest." 

''  Ah  well,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Miss  Elizabeth, ''  wo 
both  take  our  Bibles  as  our  guides,  I  hope  ;  but  I  do  not 
think  wo  will  ever  agree  upon  these  matters,'^  and  she 
walked  away,  much  to  the  relief  of  all  parties. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  good  Mrs.  Mason,  ''  that 
Elizabeth  Harris  has  not  a  husband  and  half-a-dozen 
children  to  use  up  her  surplus  energy ;  it  flies  abroad 
like  a  great  tornado,  knocking  over  and  injuring  every 
one  it  comes  in  contact  with." 

'•  Only  think,"  said  Mary,  laughing,  "  of  a  sick  ner- 
vous  man  taken  possession  of  by  Miss  Elizabeth,  and 
having  religion  rammed  into  him  with  her  hard  fists  !  I 
don't  wonder  they  resist.^' 

"  I  heard  Mr.  Hautman  speaking  of  her  the  other  day/ 


OF  THE  LATE  ViAll.  29 

said  Ellen  ;  'Mie  says  tho  boys  have  the  greatest  horror 
of  hoi-.  She  comes  in  with  a  Bible  and  tracts  in  one 
hand  and  a  pile  of  towels  in  tho  other,  and  proceeds  in 
her  own  fixshion  to  the  cleansini,^  of  body  and  soul.  Ho 
says  it  is  enough  to  make  any  one  die  laughing  to  see  one 
of  them  taken  possession  of.  If  you  could  only  hear  him 
tell  about  it !  I  can't  do  justice  to  it.  I  shall  have  to  get 
him  on  the  subject,  for  your  benefit,  some  day." 

"  Poor  Elizabeth  !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Mason,  repontinn; 
her  uncharitable  comments, '- she  certainly  is  a  good 
woman  and  means  to  do  her  duty;  I  wish  she  had 
more  light  in  the  performance  of  it." 

"How  lovely  May  Hamilton  is  to-day  !  "  said  Mary  ; 
"she  looks  like  a  snowdrop." 

"  Yes,  and  she  is  as  sweet  and  modest  as  she  looks," 
said  Ellen.  "  I  don't  at  all  wonder  that  Mr.  Allen  should 
be  so  enraptured  with  her," 

"Well,  I  confess,"  said  Mary,  '-'I  enjoy  the  flash  and 
brilliancy  of  Julia  Bell  more  ;  she  takes  you  by  storm, 
there  is  so  much  nerve  in  her." 

"  Ob,  I  don't !  I  like  to  see  a  soft  gentle  woman  of  all 
things ;  we  can  have  the  flash  and  dash  in  the  other 
sex,"  said  Ellen. 

"I  wish  we  could  have  a  little  of  it  now,"  said  Marj^ 
"  This  reminds  me  for  all  the  world  of  an  old-time  Meth- 
odist meeting,  with  all  the  '  brethren  '  on  one  side  and 
the  '  sisters  '  on  the  other;  a  comfortable  mingling  of 
tbe  two  is  so  much  more  pleasant." 

"Good  gracious,  children!"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  "wo 
certainly  are  beset  to-day ;  I  see  JSTancy  Temple  bearing 
down  in  this  direction.  For  my  sake  please  avoid 
rudeness,  Mary;  you  have  so  little  control  over  your 
risibles." 


30  wojiL'X  on  CmWXICLES 

^'  She  always  reminds  me,"  s-aid  3Iaiy,  laughing,  "  of  a 
doll-baby ;  and  I  am  tormented,  all  the  time  I  am  with 
her,  by  a  desire  to  find  out  -whether  or  not  her  clothes 
are  sewed  on,  or  whether  she  can  b^-^Iressed  or  un- 
dressed, which  was  my  delight  in  a  doll-baby  when  1 
was  a  child." 

"How  old  is  ^Miss  Nancy,  Aunty?"  said  Ellen. 

"Lot  mo  see,"  said  ^Irs.  Mason,  assuming  a  deeply 
thoughtful  air.  and  using  the  fan  vigorously:  "she  was  a 
good-sized  girl  when  I  was  married,  twenty-eight  years 
afjo.  I  remember  now  how  she  looked  when  she  came 
up  with  a  bottle  of  cologne  from  her  mother  to  put  on 
my  toilet.  Wedding  presents  wei'3  not  as  fashionable 
then  as  now,  and  the  kindness  made  an  impression  on 
me.  I  should  think  she  must  have  been  twelve  years 
old  then." 

*'  I  expect,"  said  Mary,  "  if  she  had  known  that  you 
were  going  to  freshen  up  your  memory  on  the  tender 
point  of  her  age  with  that  same  cologne,  you  never 
would  have  received  it." 

"  Well,  I  never  could  understand  why  women  should 
be  so  very  sensitive  about  their  ages.  I  never  was," 
said  Mrs.  Mason. 

"  That  is  because  you  married  young.  Aunt  Annie," 
said  Ellen,  "  I  can  understand  it:  the  world  slights  and 
lau^rhs  at  old  maids,  and  it  is  to  avoid  this  that  women 
try  to  hide  the  fact." 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  it  is  very  foolish,"  said  Mrs. 
Mason;  "there  are  always  plenty  of  people  to  keep 
such  records,  even  if  there  were  no  family  Bibles.  But 
here  she  comes  ;  behave  yourselves,  girls!  " 

"Yes,  Aunty,  we  will."  said  Mary,  amusing  herself 
with  Mrs.  Mason's  uneasiness.    "  But  indeed  I  must  find 


OF  THE  LATE  WAIL  31 

out  about  the  clothes;  it  is  necessary  for  my  peace  of 
mind.'^ 

"  AYhat  is  the  important  matter  on  the  tapis  which  is 
so  necessary  for  your  ^ peace  of  mind'  ?  "  said  the  kidy  in 
question,  catching  the  last  words  as  she  came  up. 

"Well,  a  good  many  things,"  said  Mary;  "but  just 
now,  to  know  where  you  got  your  bonnet.'^ 

"  You  would  never  guess,"  was  the  smiling  reply. 

"Paris,"  suggested  Mary,  triumphantly. 

"Ah,  you  mischievous  girl!  you  know  better.  Bat 
what  would  you  think  if  I  told  you  that  it  was  quite  a 
piece  of  Southern  enterprise,  bora  of  present  emergen- 
cies.    I  made  it  myself!  " 

"  ]N"o !  "  and  Mary  held  up  her  hands  in  mock  amaze- 
ment. 

"Yes  I  did.  Bat  it  is  no  trouble  to  me  to  do  these 
little  things ;  I  have  always  had  a  taste  from  a  child  for 
tossing  up  Frenchy  little  affairs.  My  doll-babies  were 
the  most  stylish  doll-babies  iu  the  coantrj^." 

Mrs.  Mason  looked  on  thorns,  but  no  warning 
shakes  of  the  head  seemed  to  make  any  impression  on 
Mary.  She  proceeded  most  diligentlj^,  under  cover  of 
an  intention  to  learn  and  admire,  to  investigate  closely 
each  article  of  attire,  encouraged  thereto  by  Ellen's 
suppressed  amusement.  Determined  to  change  the  con- 
versation, Mrs.  Mason  said : 

"  I  suppose  you  are  busy  as  the  rest  of  us,  attending 
the  hospitals,  l^ancy." 

"  Oh  no,  ma'am,  of  course  not.  My  mamma  would 
.  )t  let  mo  go  on  any  account;  she  says  they  are  no 
places  for  young  ladies." 

"Yes!  that's  true,"  said  Mrs.  Mason  gravely. 

^'No,"  continued  Miss  Nancy,  "  my  time  is  fully  oc- 


32  wojiBx,  on  cunoyicLES 

cupic'J  at  home;  I  have  visitors  from  morning  to  night. 
Mamma  says  she  don't  know  how  I  manage  to  keep 
up  a  supply  of  small-talk.  Colonel  Johnston  sat  with 
me  until  twelve  o'clock  last  night,  and  indeed  (con- 
sciousl}^)  I  may  say  every  night.  Mamma  says  she  will 
have  to  break  it  up,  or  I  will  look  as  old  as  the  hills 
from  loss  of  rest ;  but  really  one  can't  help  it,  can  we, 
girls?" 

"Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Masou  in  a  tone  of  relief,  for  the 
mirth  was  becoming  irrepressible  in  Mary's  eyes,  *'tho 
review  is  over.    I  am  so  glad ;  now  let's  go  home." 

More  easily  said  than  done,  as  the  good  old  lady 
found  when  she  attempted  to  pilot  her  two  charges 
through  the  crowd. 

Acquaintance  after  acquaintance  amongst  the  re- 
leased soldiers  claimed  a  word,  until  at  last  they  were 
brought  to  a  standstill. 

*'  Ah,  yong  ladies,"  said  a  young  man  in  the  uniform 
of  a  private,  elbowing  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
*'  you  haf  tempt  me  to  desert  my  post  this  efen- 
ing." 

"  That  is  a  bad  account  to  give  of  yourself,  Mr.  Haut- 
man,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  I  did  not  know  anything  could 
do  that." 

"  Der  you  make  a  meestake,"  was  the  answer ;  "  for  I 
have  luf  de  ladies  all  my  lif,  and  the  Confedercy  only 
few  weeks.     I  mus'  bo  constant  to  my  first  Inf." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Haatman,"  said  Mary,  "we  want  you  to 
tell  us  about  how  the  ladies  at  the  hospitals  do." 

^'  Ob,  Miss  Holcome,aexcuse  me,"  bowing  to  Mrs.  Ma- 
son, "de  ladies  is  angeis  of  mercy  to  the  sick  soldier; 
but  some  of  dem  do  vash  too  hart." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  this  stroke,  the  humor 


OP  THE  LATB   WAR,  33 

of   which  lost  nothing  from  his  broken  English  and 
face  beaming  with  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  joke. 

"Dero  is  vono  ladj,"  ho  continued,  encouraged  by 
his  ai^preciativo  audience,  "  who  is  so  goot  sho  think  not 
of  no  trouble.  Sho  come  in  with  her  pretty  letil  Bible 
and  trash  in  one  han'  and  her  nice  white  towel  in  do 
Oder;  en,  my  dear  madam,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Mason, 
"you  would  luf  to  see  how  glad  do  poor  man  is  to  see 
her.  You  see  dey  want  vash  so  verree  mouch ;  but " — 
vs'ith  a  quizzical  nod  of  his  head — "  dey  is  clean  enuf  fen 
sho  is  dun  wid  'em.  Dey  want  not  to  see  vater  no 
more  dat  day." 

His  manner  was  irresistibly  comic,  and  even  Mrs. 
Mason  was  obliged  to  join  in  the  laugh  which  ensued, 
though  she  said  gravely,  as  soon  as  she  could  command 
herself: 

*-It  is  well  that  the  ladies  do  not  give  their  services 
for  thanks,  or  they  would  bo  very  much  disappointed." 

*'jS"ow,  my  dear  madam,  do  aexcuse  me,"  said  the 
young  German  earnestly ;  "  de  soldier  would  be  bad  ofr 
widout  de  ladies ;  dey  would  suffer  much  more  in  dis 
worl',  en  de  nex',  I  am  afraid.  But  ever  now  en  den,  it  is 
true,  dey  do  vash  too  hard.  Dere  is  vone  poor  fellow 
who  know  so  litel  what  is  goot  for  him,  dat  he  say  he 
would  rader  die  mid  de  dirt  on  den  to  be  vash  so  verree 
much." 

'•  Come  on,  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  utterly  unable  to 
stem  the  torrent  of  amusement,  "  we  must  go  home. 
We  will  be  glad  if  Mr.  Hautman  will  go  with  us  to  tea, 
and  he  has  my  promise  that  he  shall  not  have  his  face 
washed  during  the  evening." 


3* 


34  W02I£2^',  on   CHRONICLES 


CHAPTEE   lY. 

"  The  dawn  is  overcast,  the  morning  lowers, 
And  heavily  the  cloud  brings  on  the  day, 
The  great,  the  important  day,  big  with  the  fate 
Of  Cato  and  of  Rome." — Addison. 

''  I  AM  miserable  !  "  ejactilated  3Irs.  Masou  in  an  agi- 
tated voice,  making  a  sudden  entry  into  the  parlor  a 
few  days  after  the  revicvr.  That  she  announced  a  fact, 
no  one  could  have  doubted  who  saw  the  cloud  njion  her 
usually  bright  face. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  exclaimed  several  voices  at 
once ;  and  as  Mrs.  Mason  threw  herself  into  a  chair  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  the  whole  party 
gathered  around  her  in  breathless  anxiety.  It  was 
some  seconds  before  she  could  cxj^lain. 

"  I  went  down  to  my  hospital  this  morning,  and 
what  was  my  surprise  to  find  several  ambulances  be- 
fore the  door;  some  full,  and  others  filling,  with  my 
poor  sick  boys.  In  answer  to  my  inquiries  they  told 
me  that  orders  had  been  given  to  move  them  from 
ATinchester,  and  they  thought  the  army  was  falling 
back." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

'''I  can't  believe  it." 

"They  never  would  be  so  cruel !  "  ejaculated  the  hor- 
ror-stricken ladies. 

"  Unfortunately,"  said  Captain  jMurray,  who  was  pres- 
ent, "  neither  persons  nor  places  are  to  be  considered  in 
these  times  ;  individuals  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  gen- 
eral good." 


OF  TUB  LATE  ^yAR.  35 

''Do  you  believe  it,  brother?"  said  Mary  Holcombe 
whose  pallid  check  and  tearful  eye  formed  a  sad  contrast 
with  her  usual  demeanor. 

''I  don't  know  anything  about  it/*  was  the  answer. 
*'  I  am  not  in  the  confidence  of  the  Prime  Ministers, 
but  I  confess  it  looks  like  it,  and  you  ladies  will  have 
to  learn  the  first  hard  lesson  this  war  gives  you  ;  if  you 
desire  our  success,  as  I  am  sure  you  do,  you  must  be 
willing  to  submit  even  to  desertion.  I  feel  assured  of 
General  Johnston's  wisdom  as  an  oflScer,  and  that  he 
knowa  what  he  is  about.  "VYo  can't  all  be  Generals,  so 
we  must  trust  to  him," 

He  spoke  cheerfully,  putting  his  arm  around  Mary, 
who  stood  by  him,  and  stooping  to  kiss  her  upturned 
face,  he  said: 

"  Poor  little  girl  I  not  much  of  a  soldier,  I  am  afraid ; 
but  I  must  take  you  out  too  if  it  can  be  done." 

'^Oh,  Captain  Murray,"  said  Ellen,  "  it  frightens  me  to 
death  to  hear  you  speaking  as  if  such  a  thing  could  be 
possible." 

"It  is  possible,"  said  he  gently,  "but  not  certain.  I 
will  go  and  find  out,  however,  and  come  and  let  you 
know.*' 

He  soon  returned  and  told  them  that  it  was  even  so; 
the  whole  army  was  on  the  move. 

"General  Patterson  is  at  Bunker's  Hill  with  twelve 
thousand  men,  and  wo  are  moving  away  from  him 
— why,  I  cannot  say,  but  General  Johnston  seems  in  fine 
spirits,  so  I  suppose  it  is  all  right.  By-the-bye,  Col. 
Jackson  has  been  appointed  Brigadier-General." 

To  describe  the  dismay  of  the  people  of  Winchester 
when  the  fact  became  patent  that  the  town  was  to 
bo  evacuated,  would  be  impossible.     They  had  fondly 


36  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

flattered  themselves,  with  but  little  of  the  gift  of  pro- 
phetic vision,  that  Winchester  was  to  be  a  military 
post  for  the  Confederates  during  the  war ;  and  now  to 
be  suddenly  deserted,  with  an  enemy  only  twelve  miles 
oflP,  filled  them  with  consternation.  All  of  the  exaorirer- 
ated  horrors  which  had  filled  the  papers,  of  the  treatment 
designed  for  them  by  the  Federal  army,  rose  up  before 
them  and  paralyzed  them  with  terror.  Wo  all  know 
that  there  is  nothing  so  hard  to  bear  as  an  unknown 
danger ;  the  imagination,  with  nothing  to  limit  its  strides 
is  a  cruel  master,  leaping  over  probabilities,  and  launch- 
ins:  its  victim  in  a  d.ark  forest  where  there  is  no  liixht 
to  guide,  and  where  to  the  excited  fancy  danger  waits 
at  every  turn. 

Captain  Murray  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  some  mode 
of  conveyance  for  Mary,  but  was  at  last  obliged  to  aban- 
don the  idea  of  taking  her  out,  and  left  her  in  the  care 
of  her  aunts. 

The  scene  was  one  full  of  interest  and  excitement ; 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  the  crowding  troops, 
and  the  long  lines  of  wagons  stretched  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  There  was  every  evidence  of  haste ;  the  offi- 
cers rode  here  and  there,  hurrying  the  troops ;  ambu- 
lances were  hastily  filled  with  the  sick,  but  so  insufficient 
was  the  supply  of  these  conveyances  that  it  was  at  last 
determined  not  to  attempt  the  entire  removal  of  the 
hospitals.  Poor  pallid-faced  boys  could  be  seen  issuing 
from  these  establishments,  intent  upon  escaping  with 
the  army,  or  even  dying  on  the  road  rather  than  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  in  some  cases  the 
symptoms  of  an  active  movement  brought  back  the 
hue  of  life  to  the  wan  cheek  simultaneously  with  hope 
to  the  heart;  and  mingled  with  all  this  were  not  a  few 


OF  TUE  LATE   W^iR.  37 

murmurs  that  they  wcro  compelled  ignominiously  to 
turn  their  backs  on  the  enemy  after  waiting  so  long 
for  a  chance  to  meet  him;  nor  were  the  non-combatants 
the  least  excited  of  the  mass;  the  windows,  j^ards  and 
porches  of  the  different  residences  were  crowded  with 
old  men,  women  and  children,  waving  a  farewell  to 
sons,  brothers,  husbands  and  friends,  too  many  of  whom 
they  were  never  to  see  again  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 
Tears  fell  like  rain  over  the  scene,  and  many  a  fervent 
heart  sent  up  ejaculations  of  entreaty  to  Heaven  for  the 
protection  of  its  loved  ones. 

Mr.  Randolph's  house  presented  to  our  view  a  scene  of 
excited  interest,  the  porch  and  street  in  front  of  it  being 
full  of  soldiers  taking  a  hasty  leave  of  friends  whose 
open  and  generous  hospitality  had  been  extended  so 
freely  to  them ;  and  Ellen,  Mrs.  Eandolph,  and  Mrs.  Ma- 
son strove  to  hide  their  distress  at  the  change  in  the  as- 
pect in  their  affairs,  and  their  great  anxieties,  under  a 
cheerful  manner.     Laughter  and  tears  mingled  freely. 

At  a  window  in  the  hall  opening  on  a  pretty  little 
green  yard,  sat  Mary  Holcombe,  her  eyes  heavy  with 
weeping.  She  had  hoped  to  the  last  that  some  way 
would  be  provided  for  her  return  home ;  and  when  she 
found  that  the  idea  had  been  abandoned,  she  gave  her- 
self up  completely  to  terror  and  distress,  refusing  to  be 
comforted. 

Nor  can  we  wonder  very  much  at  her  agitation,  as 
there  was  every  prospect  not  only  of  her  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy,  but  of  being  cut  off  from  her 
family,  it  might  be  for  months,  and  that  too  when  a 
battle  was  imminent. 

Every  one  knows,  or  at  least  every  woman  knows, 
when   once  the  floodgates  of  the   heart  are  opened, 


38  WOME:^,  on  CHROmCLES 

how  impossible  it  is  to  stem  the  torrent  which  flows 
and  overflows  in  spite  of  all  efl'orts  at  self-control;  every 
circumstance,  however  trivial,  brings  the  tears  afresh. 
This  was  the  case  with  Mary  Holcombe;  and  many  an 
admiring  young  soldier  went  away  wondering  if  it 
could  be  that  she  was  shedding  those  tears  for  him  alone. 
One  had  his  hopes  so  excited  that  he  turned  back  and 
begged  for  some  token  from  her  that  she  remembered 
their  intercourse  with  pleasure,  and  went  off"  pressing 
a  blue  ribbon  to  his  heart;  another  kissed  her  hand, 
and  asked  her  to  watch  out  for  Mm  on  the  return  of  the 
army.  Mary  promised  everything,  and  wept  faithfully 
over  them  all,  but  without  a  particle  of  the  tender  sen- 
timent at  her  heart.  Indeed,  just  as  one  fine  fellow  was 
about  giving  vent  to  some  very  touching  expressions 
of  admiration  and  regret,  her  ear  caught  the  sound  of 
John's  voice  in  the  porch.  Much  to  the  astonishment 
and  chagrin  of  the  young  man,  she  was  gone,  leaving 
him  with  an  unfinished  sentence  upon  his  lips,  and 
throwing  herself  into  her  brother's  arms,  she  sobbed 
out: 

"Oh,  Johnny,  take  care  of  yourself !  don't  let  the  guns 
hurt  you  !  It  almost  kills  me  to  think  of  those  dreadful 
men  shooting  right  at  you.  " 

"■  Pshaw,  Mary  !  "  said  Johnny,  his  manliness  a  little 
outraged  by  this  outburst,  ''don't  you  be  uneasy;  I  will 
come  back  all  right.  I  believe  you  think  the  Yankee 
army  has  come  down  here  just  to  pick  ofl'your  friends; 
but  I  don't  believe  the  bullet  is  moulded  which  is  to 
hit  me.  Eut  I  must  go.  Come,  say  good-bye,  and  cheer 
up!  Why,  you  are  no  soldier  at  all !  "  and  he  hugged 
and  kissed  her  with  the  greatest  tenderness  and  affection 
in  spite  of  his  rough  words. 


OP  rUK  LATE  y^AU.  39 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  putting  her  arms 
around  him  and  her  mouth  to  his  ear,  "ask  God  to  bo 
with  3"ou  on  the  battle-field  ;  don't  go  without  the  shield 
of  His  protection." 

"  Oh  yes,  Aunty,  I  will,"  said  he  aloud  ;  "I  will  remem- 
ber all  your  sermons  and  good  advice  when  I  get  there. 
Come  on,  Harry  ;  the  boys  are  far  ahead  of  us." 

Harry  did  not  come  at  once,  however;  he  had  his  arms 
around  Aunt  Annie ;  and  there  was  a  moisture  in  his 
eyes  as  she  whispered  her  last  words  to  him,  and  as  ho 
kissed  her  he  said  : 

"  I  shan't  forget  Aunty,  and  please  pray  for  me." 

"Mrs.  Mason,"  said  a  tall,  handsome  young  man  in 
cai:)tain's  uniform,  "please  take  charge  of  these  for  me 
and  send  them  to  my  wife ;  she  will  value  them  if  I 
should  never  return,"  and  he  put  in  her  hand  his  sleeve- 
buttons  and  watch. 

The  quick  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes  at  the  sad  sugges- 
tion ;  but  taking  them,  she  said  : 

"  Certainly,  Captain  Huntington ;  but  I  trust  I  may 
have  no  such  sad  duty  to  perform.  I  hope  to  give 
them  back  to  yourself." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  hope  so  too,"  said  he,  laughing  hghtly ; 
'•'■  I  only  prepare  against  possible  contingencies.  I  give 
my  life,  if  need  be,  to  the  cause;  but  God  can  bring 
me  through  safely :  I  trust  all  to  Him,"  and  with  an- 
other bright  glance  he  was  gone. 

"  Going  to  fight  at  last,  Cousin,"  said  another  young 
boy,  shaking  her  by  the  hand. 

*'  God  go  with  you,  Frank,"  she  said  as  she  kissed 
him.  "I  thank  Him  that  your  brother  and  yourself 
liave  committed  yourselves  to  Him,  I  trust  that  He 
may  bring  you  back  safely." 


40  WOMEN,  OR  CUBONICLES 

Mary  in  the  meantime  had  returned  to  her  seat  at 
the  ^Yindow,  and  was  busy  returning  the  greetings  of 
her  numerous  friends. 

*'  ]^efcr  mind,  Miss  Holcome,"  said  a  voice  beside  her, 
and  she  turned  to  meet  Mr.  Ilautman's  bright  fiice  ; 
*'  keep  your  tears,  I  not  dead  yet.  Why,  you  bleaf  not 
all  dey  tell  you  about  de  battel.  Dey  no  fight,  dey  only 
go  for  de  pic-nic  to  de  woods ;  we  come  back  to-mor- 
row." 

Mary  laughed  through  her  tears  as  she  said  : 

"  Mr.  Hautman,  I  believe  your  laugh  never  fails." 

"  What  use,"  he  eaid,  "  to  cry  en  make  my  eye  red  ? 
It  do  no  goot,  en  spoil  my  beauty." 

"  Well,  I  am  less  of  a  philosopher  than  you  are,"  she 
said  ;  "  and  besides  I  believe  I  would  rather  go  with  the 
army  and  fight  than  to  be  left  here  to  be  captured  by 
the  Yankees.^' 

"Why,  my  dear  3'ong  ladie,"  he  said,  "dey  will  no 
come;  but  if  dey  do,  no  man  could  hurt  you.  But  I 
must  go ;  goot-bye.  If  I  should  get  one  bullet  trou  me, 
spare  one  tear  for  de  poor  stranger."  There  was 
pathos  in  his  tones  in  spite  of  his  laughing  face, 
and  Mary  spared  more  than  one  tear  on  the  spot ! 

And  now  they  are  all  gone,  and  quiet,  like  a  pall 
rests  upon  the  anxious  people.  No  one  can  settle  to 
anything ;  and  long  after  the  last  trace  of  the  army 
had  disappeared,  may  the  citizens  be  seen  with  faces 
turned  in  their  direction,  as  if  their  love  and  solicitude 
had  the  power  to  pierce  even  the  distance  and  bring 
to  them  tidings  of  the  travellers. 

For  two  days  did  this  restless,  exhausting  suspense 
last,  and  then  the  sound  of  the  cannon  travelling  over 
the  forty  miles  which  intervened  between  Manassas  and 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  41 

Winchester  announced  that  the  blow  had  fallen.  The 
forms  of  men,  Avonicn  and  children  dotted  the  hills 
around  the  town,  as  if  there  was  comfort  in  diminish- 
ing the  distance,  even  in  that  slight  degree,  between 
them  and  their  precious  ones. 

Ah !  the  horror  of  suspense  at  such  a  time  I  who 
can  understand  it  but  those  who  have  so  often  experi- 
enced it?  IIow  pitiless  is  thought!  How  does  it  go 
grinding  up  and  down,  mocking  the  agony  of  its 
victim,  painting  with  colors  j)ainfLilly  vivid  the  shrink- 
ing sensitive  flesh  and  blood  so  susceptible  of  suffering, 
and  the  tearing  cruel  iron. 

Mothers!  sisters!  wives!  daughters!  how  have  your 
poor  hearts  writhed  and  bled  in  those  long,  long  hours! 
Close  3^our  eyes  as  you  would,  you  could  not  shut  out 
from  your  mental  vision  the  flying  ball,  the  cruel  shell, 
and  the  gaping  seams  in  the  flesh  of  your  loved  ones. 
But  you  bear  it!  Oh  yes!  Cover  over  your  heart- 
wounds  and  smile  as  you  writhe,  because  this  much 
you  sacrifice  for  the  liberty  of  your  country ! 

Manassas  Junction,  July  23d,  1861. 

My  Dear  Maiiy, —  I  write  from  the  ficld-hos:iMtal, 
about  two  miles  from  the  battle  of  Manassas,  where  I 
am  on  account  of  a  slight  wound  in  my  left  arm,  about 
which  there  is  not  the  least  occasion  to  be  uneasy,  as  it 
gives  me  very  little  pain,  and  the  doctors  say  there  is 
not  the  smallest  danger. 

Well,  they  say  we  gained  a  great  victory;  but  it 
was  a  fearful  fight.  I  cannot  imagine  any  one  ever 
being  the  same  after  witnessing  such  scenes;  it  makes 
the  young  old  in  an  hour. 

I  am  not  going  to  attempt  a  description  of  it  —  I  could 


42  WOMEX,  Oil   CIlROyiCLES 

not  do  it ;  and  besides,  I  am  glad  3'ou  did  not  see  it ;  and 
never,  Maiy,  may  you  know  liow  it  looked!  Our  dear 
Harry  was  killed  instantly  at  the  close  of  the  battle. 
We  were  charging  together  when  he  fell;  it  Avas  so 
sudden  that  I  could  not  realise  it.  One  instant  he  was 
cheering  so  joyously,  and  the  next  dead. 

We  have  lost  terribly  amongst  our  acquaintances; 
poor  Frank  and  Charlie  Campbell,  and  Captain  Hun- 
tington, all  gone.  We  were  ordered  to  fall  back,  and  1 
heard  Frank's  cheerj^  voice  call  out : 

"  Come  here,  Charlie  ;  we  won't  retreat,  at  any  rate." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  the  words  when  they  were 
both  shot  down. 

"  Let  them  lie  as  they  fell,  together,"  said  Captain 
Huntington;  and   in   an  instant   he  lay  beside   them. 

Papa  was  in  the  fight  all  day,  but  escaped  unhurt; 

l^ut  E and  P from  Winchester  are  among  the 

killed,  and  your  little  friend  Hautman  severely  wounded. 

Tell  Aunty  that  Harry  remembered  her  words  to 
him  all  the  way  down,  and  I  am  sure  he  died  a  Chris- 
tian. Her  teachings  came  back  to  me  amidst  the  din 
of  the  battle  ;  it  was  a  fearful  application  of  them. 

George  is  well,  and  busy  in  the  hospitals,  but  he  looks 
very  sad  and  badly  ;  he  grieves  very  much  over  Harrj-. 
Poor  Harry! 

I  shall  get  a  furlough  and  go  home  for  a  few  weeks 
till  I  get  well.  I  cannot  do  any  good  here,  and  will 
recover  more  rapidly  at  home  ;  so  make  haste  and 
meet  me  there,  which  I  have  no  doubt  3-ou  can  do,  as 
we  hear  to-day  that  there  is  no  army  occuj^ying  the 
Yalley. 

I  shall  take  a  young  friend  of  mine  homo  with  me,  a 
lieutenant  in  a  Georgia  company.     He  is  a  tine  fellow, 


OF  TUE  LATE  ^VAR,  43 

ar.d  very  handsome  ;  we  have  become  great  friends  in 
the  hospital.     Misery  loves  company. 
Give  \\\y  devoted  love  to  all. 

Your  devoted  brother, 

JOUN     IIOLCOMBE. 


4:4:  WOMUii,  on  Cmi02UCLJ£S 


CHAPTEE   Y. 

"  The  world's  a  theatre,  the  earth's  a  stage 
Y>^hich  God  and  Nature  do  with  actors  fill." 

Thomas  He  v  wood. 

The  month  of  October  may  aptly  be  styled  the  Claude 
Lorraine  of  the  3'ear,  touching  with  its  gloAving  tints 
the  verdure  of  Xature,  painting  it  with  its  rainbow 
hues,  until  the  eye,  fairly  dazzled  by  the  brilliancy, 
dwells  with  a  sigh  of  regret  upon  the  rapidly  approach- 
ing season  whose  frosty  breath  will  so  ruthlessly  change 
thif-  ''  coat  of  many  colors  "  into  the  sad  and  sombre 
garb  of  winter. 

Through  this  rich  foliage  of  red,  green,  and  yellow, 
gleam  the  white  walls  of  Eoso  Hill,  the  home  of  the 
Holcombcs,  sitting  like  a  queen  upon  her  throne  with 
the  smiling  earth  for  her  footstool,  or  crowning  her 
pinnacle  like  the  sun  the  mountain-top  as  he  sinks  to 
his  rest  behind  it. 

Around  the  house  Nature  reigns  supreme,  by  her 
majestic  stillness  overcoming  even  the  throbs  of  life  in 
the  scene,  for  there  was  a  pulsation  everywhere  ;  the 
insect  buzzing  out  its  brief  life  in  the  rays  of  the  sun, 
the  droning  of  the  bee  returning  to  its  hive  with  its 
burden  of  sweets,  the  cattle  in  the  distant  meadow 
cropping  the  grass  or  standing  knee-deep  in  the  cool 
stream,  the  white-fleeced  sheep  dotting  the  hill-side,  and 
looking  in  the  distance  not  unlike  untimely  snow-balls 
against  the   green    background  j  and   afar   off  to  the 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  45 

right,  in  the  direction  of  the  stables,  is  a  drove  of 
galloping  liorscs  going  to  be  watered  under  the  super- 
intendence of  a  woolly-headed  urchin,  whose  distant 
voice  but  supplies  another  throb  to  the  landscape. 

But  even  while  we  gaze,  Kature  in  her  usurped  do- 
minion is  dethroned  by  the  voice  of  her  master  Man, 
and  issuing  from  the  grove  we  see  a  party  of  four  per- 
sons, two  ladies  and  two  gentlemen,  mounted  on  horse- 
back;  and  suddenly,  bounding  life  seems  everywhere, 
the  whole  scene  is  lighted  up  as  by  a  sudden  gleam  of 
sunshine. 

*'  Let's  have  a  race  to  the  house,"  said  a  youthful 
voice  ;  and  one  of  the  ladies,  touching  her  pretty  white 
steed,  bounded  forward  in  front  of  the  joarty,  as  though 
the  mere  expression  of  her  wish  made  the  acquiescence 
of  the  rest  certain.  Pausing,  however,  in  her  flight, 
she  turned  her  mirthful  face  towards  her  companions, 
tossing  back  at  the  same  time  the  heavy  braids  of  rip- 
pling hair  which,  like  a  veil  wrought  of  golden  threads, 
almost  enveloped  her  person,  curling  itself  about  so  as 
to  catch  the  light  most  favorably  for  the  full  display  of 
its  beauty. 

Thus  dared  to  the  contest,  two  of  the  gentlemen  put 
cpurs  to  their  horses  and  were  soon  by  her  side.  Indeed, 
perfect  mistress  as  she  was  of  the  science  of  horseman, 
ship,  she  vras  no  match  for  them,  and  this  she  soon  saw- 
Taking  advantage  of  the  gallantry  which  prevented 
their  claiming  a  victory  which  they  might  easily  have 
won,  and  fully  satisfied  as  they  were  with  equality,  she 
moderated  the  pace  of  her  steed,  and  thus  reduced  that 
cf  the  whole  party,  until  within  twenty  yards  of  the 
goal,  when,  applying  her  whip  to  her  horse,  she  shot  like 
an  arrow  from  its  bow  beyond  her  competitors,  and 


46  ]VOML\y,  OR  CIIRONIULES 

with  an  impetus  ^vhicll  carried  her  several  yards  past 
the  stopping  point. 

Chipping  her  hands  with  the  glee  of  a  child,  she 
clainied  her  victory. 

"  Another  leaf  in  m^-  crown  of  laurel  "  she  Baid.  "  To 
beat  two  of  Ashby's  cavalry  ig  no  contemptible  achieve- 
ment." 

"Particularly  when  the  victory  is  so  manifestly  won 
by  superior  skill/'  said  one  of  her  companions  laugh- 
ing, as  he  dismounted  from  his  horse  and  went  to  her 
assistance. 

*' Strategy  ought  to  supply  lack  of  strength,"  said 
she  triumphantly.  "  I  would  rather  win  a  battle 
through  superior  skill  than  superior  strength  ;  the  ono 
is  simj^ly  a  physical  endowment,  the  other  accomplished 
through  mental  qualifications." 

'-'Well,  my  gallantry  would  not  allow  me  to  gain  a 
victory  over  a  lady,"  said  the  second  gentleman,  who 
still  sat  upon  his  horse  and  leaned  forward,  laughing  in- 
dolently at  her  enthusiasm. 

"A  poor  and  ungenerous  defence,"  said  she,  "and 
so  old  and  time-worn  that  I  wonder  you  are  not 
ashamed  to  bring  it  out  this  cool  evening.  I  think 
Adam  used  it  to  Eve  before  she  took  the  bite  of  that 
apple,  and  it  has  been  'ladies'  fruit'  ever  since." 

''Fairly  defeated  now.  Lieutenant  Dallam,  whatever 
we  were  before,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "I  think  we 
might  as  well  acknowledge  it  and  withdraw  our  forces; 
many  a  poor  fellow  is  killed  by  a  chance  shot  after  the 
battle  is  over." 

^*  Well,  I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer,  with  mock 
gallantry,  "that  I  do  not  court  a  wound  from  such  a 
source.     ^Miss  Holcombe  always  sends  the  cure  in  with 


OF  THE  J. ATE   WAR.  47 

tho  bullet  which  wounds;  sho  administers  her  blow 
with  a  smile  Avhich  makes  it  after  all  a  coup-de-grace. 
Ah,  Mrs.  Murray,"  turning  towards  the  second  lady, 
who  with  her  escort  now  rode  up,  "your  sister  here 
is  invincible,  she  wins  the  laurels  on  every  field." 

"  She'll  win  a  broken  neck,  I  fear.  Lieutenant  Dal- 
lam," said  the  lady ,  rather  tartly.  "  Mary  forgets  that 
it  is  not  exactly  the  thing  for  her  to  bo  tearing  over  the 
country  at  such  a  pace,  running  races  with  gentlemen. 
Papa  would  not  approve  of  it,  I  am  sure." 

The  speaker  was  a  queenly-looking  woman,  with 
beauty  still  untouched  though  matured  by  time.  There 
was  a  dignity  of  manner  which  harmonized  so  admir- 
ably with  her  appearance  that  you  almost  forgave  her 
the  unnecessary  tartness  of  her  rebuke,  because  you 
felt  that  the  freak  which  provoked  it,  though  harmless 
enough,  would  have  sat  strangely  upon  the  rebuker. 

"  Eather  harsh,  Margie,"  said  the  gentleman  who  ac- 
companied her,  assisting  her  to  dismount  with  a  fa- 
miliarity which  at  once  proclaimed  their  relation  to  be 
that  of  husband  and  wife  ;  "  I  shall  have  to  turn  against 
my  wife  in  this  case.  Mary  has  not  violated  any  rule 
of  propriety  that  I  know  of;  and  if  she  never  loses  her 
life  until  she  is  thrown  from  her  horse,  I  will  insure  her 
a  long  one.  Sho  is  rather  more  at  home  on  horseback 
than  off  of  it.  She  might  'jine  tho  cavalry,'  as  the 
boys  say,  with  credit." 

A  momentary  expression  of  vexation  crossed  Mar- 
garet Murray's  face  at  the  opposition,  but  it  was  voice- 
less, and  passed  away  as  she  felt  the  caressing  touch  of 
his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  met  that  expression 
which  took  the  sting  from  his  rebuke  ;  at  the  same  mo- 
ment also  a  negro  woman  appeared  at  the  top  of  the 


48  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

steps  leading  down  to  where  they  stood,  bearing  in  her 
arms  a  perfect  representative  of  beautiful  babyhood, 
laughing  and  exulting  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  party, 
reaching  forward  eagerl}^  towards  them  and  crying  in 
his  baby  accents : 

''  Mama  !  Mama !  " 

In  an  instant  all  else  was  forgotten,  and  the  queenly 
creature  was  nothing  more  than  a  simple  woman 
crowned  with  her  triple  glory,  woman,  wife,  mother, 
extending  her  arms  upwards,  exclaiming: 

*'  My  beautiful  boy !  my  darling !  " 

It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  her  with  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  nestling  closely  to  her  bosom,  with  his  little  hands 
clasped  tightly  about  her  neck,  and  his  dimpled  cheek 
resting  against  her  own;  it  told  a  whole  volume  in  a 
moment; 

"  Will  Miss  Mary  Holcombe  be  so  good  as  to  inform 
me  why  she  never  has  a  word  for  an  old  friend  and 
preceptor,  allowing  these  3'oung  fellows  to  monopolize 
her  completely?"  said  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  had 
accompanied  Mary,  as  he  assisted  her  'in  the  difficult 
task  of  ascending  the  steps,  incommoded  as  she  was  by 
her  long  riding-skirt;  "I  am  sure  I  have  a  prior  claim 
to  any  other  gentleman  of  your  acquaintance." 

"  Indeed  you  have,  Mr.  Williams,"  said  Mary,  putting 
her  hand  familiarly  upon  his  arm  —  '-a  claim  which 
none  of  them  can  ever  have.  Of  course  you  know  I  can 
never  value  any  other  friend  as  I  do  you." 

"  Then  why  not  give  me  some  proof  of  it?"  was  the 
answer,  not  without  a  tone  of  irritation  in  the  voice. 

"Well,  Mr.  Williams,  how  can  I  help  it?  I  am 
obliged  to  play  the  agreeable  to  these  boys  when  they 
come  to  the  house,  and  you  aro  juGt  as  well  satisfied 
with  Mamma  and  Margie." 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAR.  49 

"Perhaps  so,"  answered  Mr.  Williams  under  bis 
breath.,  adding  aloud  :  "  Well,  I  intend  to  claim  my 
rights  from  this  time  out.  I  put  myself  upon  a  footing 
with  the  other  visitors,  and  insist  that  Miss  Ilolcombe 
shall  at  least  show  mo  equal  attention.  If  a  man  can't 
claim  something  upon  the  score  of  having  brought  you 
up,  I  think  matters  are  come  to  a  strange  pass.'* 

"Very  well,  take  what  you  can  get,"  said  Mary, 
laughing  saucily,  "  if  you  won't  bo  content  with  what  I 
offer  you." 

As  they  approached  the  house  they  were  met  by  a 
little  boy  about  four  years  old  riding  on  a  stick  horse. 

"  Well,  Master  Eddy,  how  d'ye  do  ?  "  said  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, catching  him  up  and  holding  him  at  arm's  length 
above  his  head. 

"I  will  be  dead,  dat's  how  I  do,  if  you  don't  put  me 
down,"  was  the  answer,  the  little  face  swelling  with 
mingled  indignation  and  apprehensicn  at  the  indignity. 
"I  verily  b'leves  you  is  a  Yankee,"  he  continued,  glow- 
ering at  his  persecutor  as  he  was  reinstated  upon  his 
feet. 

"  You  do  ?  "  said  Mr.  Williams  in  pretended  astonish- 
ment ;  "  what  makes  you  think  that  ?  " 

"Tause  Federates  don't  do  dat  way  to  boys;  dey 
'members  dey  was  little  boys  once  thej^selves." 

"  Well,  were  not  Yankees  little  boys  too  ?  "  demanded 
his  interlocutor. 

"  No,  of  tourse  not,"  with  a  glance  of  supreme  con- 
tempt for  the  ignorance  which  could  dictate  such  a 
question;  "how  tould  dey  be  when  dey  ain't  dot  no 
mowers  ?  " 

"  The  one  fact  in  Natural  History  conceded^  the  other 
follows  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 
4 


50  TFOJf^iY,  OR  CHRONICLES 

"  Never  mind,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Dallam  ;  "  when 
the  Yankees  come  they  won't  let  you  talk  that  way 
about  them." 

"  Dey  better  not  turn,  if  dey  knows  what  is  dood  for 
dem,"  delivered  with  the  fierceness  of  six  feet  three 
inches. 

"  Why,  what  could  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  I've  dot  a  dun  ;  I  will  shoot  'em  every  one, 
and  den  dey  will  run  in  a  jippy."  And  the  miniature 
man  strutted  \x\)  and  down  the  portico  with  the  swell- 
ing confidence  of  six  of  his  sex. 

"  You  funny  baby,  you  !  "  said  Mary,  catching  him  up 
as  he  passed  her  and  kissing  his  cheek  over  and  over 
again. 

"Put  me  down,"  said  the  child  passionately^ ;  "I  ain't 
no  baby.  You  don't  know  anysin  about  it.  Y^ou  is 
jist  a  gall;  you  tan't  fight." 

"Asserting  the  superiority  of  his  sex  already,"  said 
Mary,  laughing. 

"  Which  you  deny,  I  suppose,"  said  Lieutenant  Dal- 
lam, lazily  lounging  against  the  railing. 

"Kot  with  such  evidence  against  me,"  said  Mary,  ex- 
tending her  vision  so  as  to  take  in  the  whole  company 
and  ending  with  the  speaker. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  she  a?Med,  turning  to  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, who  stood  beside  her. 

"  Who,  I  ?  "  elevating  his  eyebrows  ;  •'•  I  feel  as  if  I 
was  in  a  debating  society  discussing  the  relative  merits 
of  the  cow  and  the  horse  —  as  if  such  a  question  could  bo 
discusesd." 

"No,  but,"  persisted  Mary,  "I  want  you  to  say, 
really." 

^'  Well  if  3'ou  insist  upon  the  debate's  proceeding,  1 


OP  TUE  LATE  WAll  51 

think  the  world  would  be  right  badly  off  without  cither 
one.  It  is  impossible  to  assert  the  superiority  of  either, 
because  their  spheres  are  so  different.  A  man  descends 
in  his  scale  as  he  becomes  effeminate,  and  a  woman  in 
hers  when  she  becomes  masculine  ;  they  can  each  be 
Godlike  in  their  Avay  when  they  live  up  to  the  image  in 
which  they  were  made,  and  they  can  each  be  devilish 
in  their  way  when  they  don't.  That  man  is  a  fool  who 
is  continually  harping  upon  the  inferiority  of  the  oppo- 
site sex;  and  the  woman  is  worse  who,  whatever  just 
claim  she  may  have  to  it,  is  always  asserting  either 
her  equality  or  her  superiority  to  the  man." 

''I  only  meant  comparison  in  mental  qualifications, 
Mr.  Williams,"  said  Mary,  blushing  as  deeply  as  if  she 
had  laid  herself  open  to  his  denunciations. 

''Well,  there  too  there  can  bo  no  comparison.  Some 
men  are  superior  to  some  women  —  I  pity  them  if  they 
are  not!  —  and  some  women  are  superior  to  some  micn; 
God  help  them  if  they  are  not!  What  is  the  use  of  dis- 
cussing these  matters  ?  God  has  given  you  and  me  our 
separate  spheres.  Let  us  try  to  fill  them  fully  and  well ; 
that  is  our  business." 

"  I  know  you  are  right,"  said  Mary,  "  but  indeed  I 
think  you  are  a  little  harsh." 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  am,"  he  said,  smiling  down  at  her 
with  an  apology  in  every  lineament  of  his  face  ;  '•  noth- 
ing is  farther  from  my  intention.  I  always  feel  so 
strongly  that  I  am  apt  to  express  myself  with  greater 
vim  than  I  intend  ;  but  remember  you  got  up  the  debat- 
ing society  yourself." 

"In  which,"  drawled  Lieutenant  Dallam,  who  was 
the  only  other  member  of  the  original  party  left,  "it 
seems  to  me  3'ou  not  only  took  both  sides  but  decided 


52  WOMLW,   OB  CUROmCLES 

the  question  on  a  common  ground  —  all  out  of  order,  and 
I  call  for  a  further  discus!>ion  of  the  question,  and  sec- 
ond my  own  motion.  All  in  favor  of  this  motion  Avill  say 
Yea  !  all  opposed  Ko  ! 

Ilis  faint  Yea  scarce  made  any  noise  beside  the  vo- 
ciferous Xocs  of  the  other  two. 

"  The  question  can  with  great  propriety  be  laid  on 
the  table,  as  Eobin  has  three  times  announced  tea,"  said 
Mar}',  leading  the  way  into  the  house. 


OF  THE  LATE  ^YAlL  53 


CHAPTEE    yi. 

•'The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man."— Pops. 

"Lieutenant  Dallam,  Mr.  Williams  and  myself  pro- 
pose making  a  reconnoissaneo  to-day  as  far  as  Hawk's 
Kest.  We  will  be  XQvy  glad  to  have  your  company  if 
you  Avish  to  go." 

"  How  far  is  it  ?  "  asked  that  gentleman,  rising  from 
the  most  luxurious  chair  the  library  at  Eosc  Hill  af- 
forded, in  which  he  had  been  lounging  at  his  ease,  in- 
tent upon  the  contents  of  a  book  he  held  in  his  hand. 

There  was  an  indolent  nonchalance  and  languid  in- 
difference in  his  manner  of  presenting  this  query 
which,  while  it  could  scarce  be  called  ungallant,  and 
was  an  inseparable  characteristic  of  the  man,  yet  to 
one  who  like  Miss  Holcombe  had  been  accustomed  to 
receive  the  glad  acquiescence  of  the  other  sex  in  any 
proposition  of  hers  which  promised  her  society  as  one 
of  the  ingredients,  it  was  to  say  the  least  not  flatter- 
ing, and  that  she  so  regarded  it  was  easily  discerned 
from  the  irritated  flush  which  mounted  to  her  ftice  as 
she  half  turned  towards  the  door. 

''  It  is  about  four  miles  off,  but  as  wo  go  to  revive 
some  old  and  pleasant  associations  I  dare  say  it  would 
bore  you ;  indeed  I  only  came  because  I  feared  3'ou 
would  feel  neglected  if  we  went  without  telling  you, 
but  I  Bee  I  might  have  spared  myself  the  trouble  —  we 
would  not  have  been  missed  even.  You  have  The  Last 
of  the  Barons^  and  w^e  could  not  hope  to  rival  Sibyl 
Warner." 


54  WOJfJ:J^'',  OE  CUROXICLES 

Mr.  Dallam  smiled  a  quick  amused  smile  as  he  thought, 
^'JS"©  end  to  the  variety  of  her  expressions;  this  pique 
positively  renders  her  charming."     He  said  aloud  : 

"I  am  sorry  that  it  Avas  onl}'  your  sense  of  duty  as  a 
hostess  which  led  to  the  compliment,  because  I  am  so 
anxious  to  go ;  and  as  to  poor  little  Sibyl  Warner,  I  as- 
sure you  I  feel  no  more  difficulty  in  leaving  her  than 
Lord  Hastings  did.  She  is  too  unreal  to  rival  Miss 
Ilolcombej  but  I  confess  I  should  enjoy  a  ride  iete-a-iete 
much  more.     Can't  we  dispense  with  pcdagogus  ?  " 

"Mr.  Dallam,"  said  Mary,  "I  have  told  j^ou  over 
and  over  again  that  I  do  not  want  you  to  call  Mr. 
"Williams  names;  he  is  a  dear  and  valued  friend  to  me, 
and  it  is  positively  displeasing  to  me  for  you  to  speak 
of  liim  as  you  do." 

"Beautiful!"  said  Mr.  Dallam,  under  his  breath, 
studying  the  changing  face  with  the  keenness  of  a 
practised  artist,  "  positively  radiant !  " 

"  Well,  my  dear  young  lady,  I  beg  3'our  ten  thousand 
pardons ;  I  never  meant  to  offend,  I  assure  you.  I  have 
the  highest  respect  and  esteem  for  your  dear  old 
nurse." 

"  Mr.  Dallam  !  "  and  this  time  she  reached  the  door. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  reaching  her  side 
and  putting  his  hand  on  the  door  —  "stoj)  and  forgive 
me.  I  know  it  is  very  impertinent  in  me,  but  you  bear 
teasing  so  charmingly  that  for  my  life  I  cannot  resist 
the  temptation  sometimes." 

"  Mr.  Dallam,  please  let  mo  go." 

'•'  Miss  Ilolcombe,  please  let  me  go I  will  release 

you  if  you  choose,  but  won't  you  let  me  form  one  of 
your  riding-party?"  He  had  managed  to  exchange 
his  former  manner  for  one  sufficiently  earnest  to  satisfy 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR,  55 

the  young  lady,  find  when  she  turned  towards  him  he 
found  from  her  face,  that  there  was  no  longer  danger 
of  dire  anger,  so  he  not  only  withdrew  his  detaining 
hand  from  the  door  but  opened  it  wide,  and  then  re- 
peated his  request  with  tin  assumption  of  humility 
which  brought  the  dimpling  smile  to  Mary  Holcombe's 
face. 

"May  I  go  with  you  to-day?  You  will  not  believe 
how  really  anxious  I  am  to  make  one  of  the  party  to 
Owl's  Nest/' 

"  Hawk's  Nest,"  corrected  Mary,  laughing. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  what  kind  of  nest  it  is,  but  I  do 
want  to  go.     May  I?" 

"  Of  course,  if  you  choose ;  but  I  would  like  to  see 
sometimes  that  you  anticipate  some  pleasure  in  a  propo- 
sition of  mine.  And  then  too  I  hate  you  when  you  talk 
80  of  Mr.  Williams." 

''My  dear  Miss  Holcombe !  I  know  you  don't 
mean  it,  but  don't  say  it  in  joke  even.  I  will  love 
Mr.  Williams  with  my  whole  heart  if  you  will  only 
return  it  in  kind,  and  he  is  a  dear  old  Dominie  Samp- 
son. Now,  don't  resent  that  too !  Goodness,  what 
am  I  to  do?  I  think  that  is  the  highest  compliment 
I  could  pay  to  any  one.  Let's  drop  the  Captain  j  he  is 
evidently  the  rock  upon  which  I  am  doomed  to  split. 
What  time  do  you  start?" 

"In  half  an  hour,"  said  Mary;  "but  again,  I  beg  you 
will  not  go  unless  you  really  wish  it." 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  am  perfectly  enthusiastic  about 
it;  but  you  ought  to  make  allowance  for  my  manner: 
I  am  a  Stoic  in  manner  but  not  in  feeling.  Nov/,  al- 
though you  see  me  so  calm  and  unconcerned,  I  am 
really  very  much  excited  about  this  same  trip." 


56  WOMJbW,  on  CIIRONICLES 

*' Certainly,"  said  Mary,  laughing  with  restored  good 
humor,  "I  do  not  think  any  one  would  ever  accuse 
you  of  undue  excitement.  I  actually  believe,  Lieutenant 
Dallam,  that  if  it  were  announced  at  the  door  that  the 
Yankees  were  within  twenty  j^ards  of  the  house,  that 
you  would  get  up  with  the  greatest  deliberation,  re- 
turn your  book  to  its  proper  position  on  the  shelf,  tak- 
ing care  that  it  was  perfectly  in  place ;  which  matter 
settled  satisfactorily,  you  would  stop  to  sigh  over  the 
absolute  necessity  for  exertion,  and  perhaps  take  an 
elaborate  leave  of  every  member  of  the  family  before 
you  attempted  to  make  your  escape." 

"Miss  Holcombe,  what  injustice!"  said  Lieutenant 
Dallam,  in  pretended  indignation.  "Why,  I  am  the  soul 
of  energy ! " 

"I  am  glad  you  told  me;  I  certainly  never  should 
have  suspected  it.  I  know  you  manage  to  provoke 
me  excessively  by  an  adroit  concealment  of  it  very 
often." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  What  a  misfortune !  Tou  give  me  an 
incentive  for  reforming  at  once.  From  this  time" — with 
a  melodramatic  manner  —  "you  see  a  new  man." 

"  Well,  I  hope  the  new  man  will  be  ready  when  the 
horses  make  their  appearance,"  said  Mary,  laughing. 
"If  you  keep  ns  waiting  Ave  withdraw  our  invitation. 
ISTow,  remember !  "  and  she  left  the  room. 

The  "  new  man  "  tossed  his  book  upon  the  table  as  he 
said,  "  I  declare  she  is  the  most  charming  piece  of  crea- 
tion I  ever  encountered.  Her  expression  is  no  two 
seconds  the  same ;  it  varies  like  the  shifting  clouds  of  the 

sky.     I  wonder  if I  don't  like  the  influence  of  this 

Williams  over  her.  I  am  half  afraid  he  has  some  sneak- 
ing notion  of  her  himself;  but  I  flatter  m^'self "  Hero 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR  57 

ho  glanced  at  the  mirror  opposite,  adjusted  his  cravat, 
and  lelt  the  rest  of  his  sentence  unfinished. 

We  do  not  Iiij:e  to  venture  to  interpret  a  man's 
thoughts  —  they  are  his  own  private  property,  and  no 
stranger  has  a  riglit  to  intermeddle  with  them;  but 
surely  Lieutenant  Dallam  might  have  built  some  self- 
flattery  upon  the  reflection  which  the  mirror  threw 
back  to  his  gaze. 

A  figure  rather  above  the  medium  height,  straight, 
muscular,  and  well-proportioned,  set  off  by  the  full  Con- 
federate uniform,  than  which  there  could  be  no  more 
becoming  dress,  but  which  he  did  not  at  all  need  to 
make  conspicuous  the  striking  characteristics  of  manly 
beauty  which  his  ajipearance  presented.  His  face  was 
delicate  and  brilliant,  with  features  regular  and  fair  as 
a  girl's,  and  yet  with  no  touch  of  effeminacy ;  had  there 
been  any  symptom  of  this,  it  would  have  been  set  at 
naught  by  the  moustache  which  arched  around  his  full 
lips,  and  the  beard  which,  like  most  of  the  Confederates, 
he  wore  long.  His  hair  was  soft,  silky  and  curling,  and 
of  a  bright  chestnut  color;  and  there  was  a  languid,  non- 
chalant manner,  with  a  slight  touch  of  plaintive  sad- 
ness, when  not  engaged  in  animated  conversation, 
which  appealed  to  the  interest  of  his  acquaintances. 
Indeed,  it  was  a  curious  fact  that  although  it  took  a 
good  deal  at  times  to  awaken  him  to  any  great  degree 
of  interest  in  w^hat  was  going  on,  yet  when  the  change 
came  it  rewarded  the  efl'ort,  and  he  at  once  became 
brilliant  and  instinct  with  fire. 

It  was  this  which  had  awakened  an  interest  for  hira 
in  Miss  Holcombe's  mind. 

He  had  returned  to  Ptose  Hill  with  John  after  the 

battle  of  Manassas,  to  recruit  with  him  from  the  effects 
4* 


58  WOMEN,  on  CHRONICLES 

of  a  slight  wound.  It  fell  to  Mavj's  lot  to  make  the 
time  of  their  convalescence  as  pleasant  as  it  might  be; 
and  there  ^vas  no  holiday-time  during  the  war  like  one 
of  those  easy  convalescences  at  a  luxurious  country 
house,  where  the  inmates  were  ready  enough  to  invest 
you  in  a  heroic  garb,  and  where  the  suffering  was  a 
mere  idea. 

Nor  was  it  an  unpleasant  task  to  the  young  lady 
herself.  She  had  but  to  consult  her  own  pleasure  and  it 
was  sure  to  be  theirs ;  so  that  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
three  weeks'  leave  for  the  young  soldiers  was  remem- 
bered as  a  gleam  of  sunlight  amid  the  clouds  of  hard- 
ship they  had  daily  to  encounter. 

They  were  the  first  wounded  soldiers  Mary  had  seen, 
and  she  attributed  Mr.  Dallam's  languid  nonchalance  of 
manner  to  the  effects  of  his  wound  ;  but  as  she  knew  him 
better  it  often  irritated  her,  and,  though  unconsciously 
to  herself,  there  grew  to  be  a  fascination  in  the  effort  to 
rouse  him  from  his  lethargy,  to  produce  one  of  those 
lio'htninc:  ehano-es  which  were  so  rare  and  so  attractive, 
iNor  was  she  apt  to  fail  in  her  attempts  ;  they  had  many 
things  in  common  in  their  tastes  and  feelings,  for  simple 
girl  as  she  was,  there  were  few  young  ladies  of  her  age 
who  were  better  acquainted  with  the  world  of  ideas 
than  Mary  Holcombe.  She  had  been  nurtured  in  the 
country  among  literary  people,  and  her  tastes  had  been 
rarely  cultivated. 

There  was  in  foct  a  wonderful  harmony  between  the 
appearance  and  character  of  this  young  girl.  Her  beauty 
was  of  the  most  delicate  and  refined  type  ;  thoroughbred 
in  everything,  she  was  also  thoroughly  feminine  in 
everythiDg.  Where  Margaret  would  have  challenged 
admiration  by  braving  a  danger,  Mary  would  have  ex- 


VF  THE  LATE  WAR.  59 

cited  tenderness  by  her  gentle  timidity.  She  was,  in 
short,  one  of  those  gracefully  dependent  creatures  who 
so  powerfully  excite  the  warmer  feelings  of  the 
other  sex,  from  their  evident  inferiority  to  themselves 
in  those  sterner  virtues  which  arc  man^s  special  pre- 
rogative, and  their  dependence  upon  them  for  that  ten- 
derness and  protection  which  it  is  always  so  sweet  to 
man  in  his  strength  to  extend  to  woman  in  her  weak- 
ness. The  lords  of  creation  like  to  feel  their  sov- 
ereignty and  to  have  it  acknowledged,  though  they  are 
very  generous  in  the  exercise  of  it. 

In  harmony  with  this  characteristic,  Mary  Holcombo 
possessed  all  of  the  more  delicate  and  refined  tastes  and 
endowments  which  adorn  our  nature ;  and  a  love  for 
music  amounting  almost  to  a  passion,  a  voice  which 
was  as  sweet  and  variable  as  a  bird's,  and  not  without 
a  plaintive  note  in  it,  which  made  it  easy  to  turn  from 
the  glad  song  which  danced  upon  the  ear  like  the  note 
of  Nature's  sweet  songsters,  to  the  soft  sad  strain  which 
brings  the  tear  to  the  eye  unbidden  ;  a  love  for  the 
beauties  of  Nature,  Avhich  is  ever  the  evidence  of  an 
artistic  eye,  as  susceptible  of  impressions  from  this 
source  as  if  only  freshly  ushered  into  this  great  garden- 
spot  of  our  Maker,  where  He  spreads  out  before  us  the 
works  of  His  hand  in  all  their  grand  variety  and  their 
exquisite  delicacy.  A  view  of  the  more  rugged  and 
stronger  workings  of  His  hand  filled  her  with  silent  awe, 
and  her  touch  of  a  flower  was  as  caressing  as  if  the 
pretty  thing  were  endowed  with  life  ;  to  see  one  per- 
ishing from  neglect  was  pain  to  her,  and  although  she 
always  had  them  blooming  about  her,  a  rose  in  her  hair 
01-  a  lily  in  her  bosom,  as  soon  as  they  began  to  hang 
their  heads  they  were  transferred  to  their  life-giving 
element,  and  fresher  ones  took  their  places. 


60  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

You  naturally  associated  her  with  the  flowers,  Long- 
fellow prettily  describes  his  Evangeline  :  "  When  she 
passed,  it  was  like  the  ceasing  of  exquisite  music."  And 
when  Mary  Ilolcombe  passed,  it  was  as  if  we  had  parted 
with  the  odor  of  a  delicate  flower.  She  was  "like  an 
exquisite  song  set  to  sweet  musio,"  with  no  jarring  or 
discordant  note  about  her. 

As  their  acquaintance  progressed,  Mr.  Dallam  had 
been  surprised  to  find  that  underneath  the  sparkle  and 
effervescence  which  made  her  so  attractive,  there  was  a 
substratum  of  more  solid  material,  which  would  last  after 
youth  with  its  brightness  had  passed  ;  and  his  interest 
extended  and  deepened  as  he  strove  to  sound  the 
depths  of  her  nature  —  a  dangerous  game  where 
Tintrammeled  youthful  hearts  are  the  gamesters ;  but 
when  he  found  that  the  study  had  but  riveted  the  chains 
about  him,  he  shook  them  in  triumph  at  the  rosy  bon- 
dage, and  with  all  the  confidence  of  youth  and  self-ap- 
preciation resolved  to  win  the  prize  from  fate. 

He  had  much  on  his  side,  it  was  true,  and  appreciated 
his  advantages  at  the  highest. 

"When  Mary  Holcombe  made  her  appearance  at  the 
door,  she  found  the  *•  soul  of  energy  "  extended  on  a 
lounge  in  a  luxurious  abandonment  to  perfect  rest,  en- 
gaged in  a  reverie. 

"  Is  this  the  way  you  reform  ?  said  she.  "  Not  one 
preparation  have  you  made  for  the  ride,  and  the  horses 
are  at  the  door." 

She  was  dressed  in  a  dark  blue  riding-habit,  which 
displayed  most  becomingly  her  softly-rounded  figure  ; 
her  hair  was  unconfined  and  fell  in  all  of  its  luxuriant 
beauty  around  her,  and  from  her  little  brimless  riding- 
hat  depended  a  long  white  ostrich  feather. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAE.  61 

"JS"©  preparation  necessary  for  a  good  soldier,  my 
dear  young  lady,"  said  Mr.  Dallam,  rising;  "  he  is  always 
ready  for  the  invasion  of  the  enemy." 

"  Enemy  indeed  I  "  retorted  Mary  —  '•  a  pretty  compli- 
ment you  pay  us,  I  must  say." 

"  Truths  are  not  always  pleasant,"  was  the  answer  ; 
"  but  you  cannot  deny  that  you  are  the  most  dangerous 
enemies  our  sex  can^have." 

"Well,  admitting  it  for  the  sake  of  the  argument," 
said  Mary,  saucily,  "we  are  enemies  you  would  be  very 
unwilling  to  do  without." 

"  Admitted  freely  ;  that  is  just  the  point.  You  destroy 
our  peace,  and  still  we  court  the  destruction  ;  you  fill 
us  with  vague  tortures,  which  we  would  not  escape  if 
we  could  ;  in  short,  you  make  us  miserable,  and  we  like 
it." 

Mary  laughed  as  she  answered,  "  It  is  always  the 
most  impenetrable  of  your  sex  that  indulge  most  in 
these  desperately  gallant  speeches,  and  it  is  the  more 
absurd  in  you  because  you  don't  even  exert  yourself 
to  look  in  earnest ;  you  bear  as  little  reseniblance  to  an 
injured  man  as  any  one  I  ever  saw." 

"  The  surface  of  the  lake  is  smooth  enough  until  it  is 
stirred  b}'-  the  storm,"  said  Mr.  Dallam,  as  they  joined 
Mr.  AYilliams  on  the  porch. 

"Let  me  see,  young  lady,  if  you  are  sufficiently  pre- 
pared for  the  cool  eveniu|j  we  must  encounter  as  we  re- 
turn," said  Mr.  Williams.  "Ah  no;  you  must  get  a 
shawl." 

"A  shawl  indeed'  "  said  Mary,  "I  never  burden  my- 
self with  any  such  inconveniences.  AYhy,  it  is  as  warm 
as  summer." 

''So  it  is   now,  but  October   evenings  are  always 


62  WOMBy,  on  CUROmCLhS 

cbilly.  Go,  child,  and  get  j'our  sha^yl ;  I'll  cany  it  for 
yon." 

lie  sjioke  with  the  fiimiliarit}^  of  a  brother,  or  even 
a  father,  and  M^uy  was  starling  otf  to  obey  when  Lieu- 
tenant DaUam  arrested  her  b}'  a  low  laugh  full  of  mean- 
ing. 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  she  said,  stopping  between 
the  two  gentlemen. 

''JSTothing,"  said  he,  elevating  his  eyebrows,  ''except 
that  3'ou  are  very  well  secured  in  leading  strings.  I 
shall  take  lessons  from  Captain  Williams  in  the  art 
of  ruling  ;  he  commands  like  a  General." 

"And  you,  my  friend,  prefer  a  masked  battery  to  an 
open  battle-field,"  retorted  Mr.  Williams  calmly ;  and 
seeing  Mary  hesitate,  he  walked  off  to  the  house,  and 
in  a  moment  returned  with  a  shawl,  of  which  he  kept 
possession  without  more  words. 

''Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  coming  from  the  house 
as  the  party  were  about  to  ride  off,  "please  take  these 
keys  with  you,  and  make  Sarah  get  out  what  the  ser- 
vants want.-  Tell  her  that  Mr.  Murray  and  myself  will 
ride  over  in  a  day  or  two." 

A  ride  of  a  few  miles  throuo;h  the  woods  broucrht 
them  in  sight  of  a  pretty  cottage  building,  nestling  in 
its  bower  of  green. 

"  There  is  Margie's  home,"  said  Mary,  pointing  with 
her  whip  towards  it. 

"A  decided  improvement  on  our  old  farm-house," 
said  Mr.  Williams;  '^but  I  don't  like  even  that  change. 
I  wanted  to  see  it  just  as  it  used  to  be." 

"  There  is  Hawk's  Xest  unchanged,"  said  Mary,  point 
ing  to  a  rock  which  seemed  to  lean  i)erilously  over  their 
heads  from  the  mountain-side. 


OP  TH^  LAT£}  WAPu  63 

''Yes,  Katurc  is  our  only  unchanging  friend  ;  nothing 
else  resists  the  impertinent  encroachments  of  time," 
said  Mr.  A^^illiams. 

"Ah,  ALr.  Williams,"  said  Mary,  "people  who  arc 
growing  old  always  talk  bitterly  of  time.  Kow  I  think 
of  time  as  the  maturer ;  you,  as  the  destroyer." 

"I  believe  you  look  upon  me  as  a  perfect  Methu- 
selah," said  Mr.  Williams  laughing,  though  his  counte- 
nance expressed  some  annoyance. 

"  Well,  if  I  do,  I  like  old  people  better  than  I  do 
young  ones,"  said  Mary,  consolingly. 

"  What  a  pity  Captain  Murray  had  to  leave  so  sweet 
a  home! "  said  Mr.  Dallam,  as  they  drew  up  in  front  of 
the  vine-clad  porch  ;  "it  looks  like  a  nest  for  a  pair  of 
young  birds.'  ' 

"Yes,  Margie  hated  it  dreadfully,  but  Captain  Mur- 
ray left  it  to  her  decision  whether  or  not  he  should  go 
into  the  army,  and  she  decided  for  it.  "  Well,  Uncle 
Billy,"  to  an  old  negro  man  who  now  made  his  appear- 
ance at  the  head  of  her  horse. 

"Sarvant,  Misstis,"  said  the  old  man,  bowing  very 
low  before  her  ;  "  I  hopes  my  young  misstis  and  marster 
is  w^ell." 

*•'  Yes,  and  will  be  over  soon.  How  are  you  all  gct- 
tino;  alono:?  " 

"Poor  enuf.  Miss  Mary.  De  soldiers  Avon't  leave 
notliin'  on  de  place  by  de  time  dey  is  done  ;  it  rayly  is 
shameful  de  way  dey  dus  take  do  chickens." 

'•Bad  account  to  give  of  Oonfedd'ate  soldiers,"  said 
Mary  laughing,  as  the  gentlemen  assisted  her  to  dis- 
mount. 

"  But  very  true,  as  I  know,"  said  Captain  Williams. 
"  If  this  war  lasts  much  longer  honesty  will  have  fled 
the  land  ;  the  disregard  of  property  rights  is  dreadful." 


64  WOJIBX,  Gli  CHRONICLES 

"Well,  you  can  hardly  blame  the  poor  fellows,"  said 
Mr.  Dallam;  "they  look  upon  these  things  as  their 
rights.  Theirs  is  a  life  of  terrible  hardship,  and  they  are 
right  to  take  what  they  can  get." 

"  Eather  loose  reasoning,  I  must  say,"  said  Captain 
Williams.  "  I  would  not  give  much  for  an  army  disci- 
plined according  to  such  ideas." 

"  Well,"  said  i\Ir.  Dallam,  "  I  never  take  any  notice 
when  I  see  them  with  extra  delicacies  which  are  not 
issued  from  our  Commissariat.  I  am  too  fond  of  creature 
comforts  myself  not  to  feel  for  them." 

By  this  time  the  servants  had  opened  the  house,  and 
they  entered  the  neat  little  parlor,  bearing  the  marks 
of  the  dainty  taste  of  its  mistress.  !Many  of  the  more 
delicate  adornments  of  the  room  had  been  removed, 
but  enough  remained  to  retain  for  it  its  air  of  habitable 
comfort. 

"  'Tis  Greece,  but  living  Greece  no  more," 

quoted  Mr.  Dallam.  "  I  declare  I  should  never  have 
decided  as  Mrs.  Murray  did.  lie  was  certainly  exempt, 
being  n,  foreigner." 

"  Well,  if  he  was  exempt  on  his  own  account,"  said 
Mary,  "  he  was  willing  to  fight  for  his  wife  and  for  his 
home.  I  don't  think  any  man  who  has  a  home  in  Yir- 
ginia  can  claim  exemption  from  the  obligation  to 
espouse  her  cause." 

*'You  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Williams;  '-but  I  would 
make  her  cause  the  cause  of  the  whole  South.  Virginia 
does  not  stand  alone." 

"  Of  course  not,  Mr.  Williams  ;  but  my  strongest  feel- 
ing is  for  my  State." 

"Yes,  but  I  think  Virginians  are  apt  to  carry  that 
feeling  too  far ;  they  exalt  their  State  at  the   expense 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  65 

of  all  of  the  others.  They  are  laughed  at  all  over  the 
country  for  it.  JS^o  one  is  prouder  of  the  record  of  Vir- 
ginia than  I  am,  but  I  think  it  would  be  wisest  and  best 
not  to  parade  our  pride  on  all  occasions." 

"  Consider  3-ourself  reproved,  Miss  Holcombe,"  said 
Mr.  Dallam,  laughing.  <'  Captain  Williams  has  not  for- 
gotten how  to  play  the  pedagogue  yet." 

Mary's  face  flushed  at  the  insinuation,  and  Captain 
Williams  answered  hotly  : 

"  Mr.  Dallam  seems  determined  to  give  a  wrong  col- 
oring to  my  remarks  this  morning.  I  beg  to  be  per- 
mitted to  write  my  own  commentaries." 

Mr.  Dallam  murmured  something  about  ''no  offence 
intended,"  of  which  Mr.  Williams  took  no  notice,  and 
Mary  proposed  that  they  should  adjourn  with  her  to  the 
store-room,  as  she  had  to  attend  to  some  little  matters 
for  her  sister. 

Both  gentlemen  were  amused  at  the  self-importance 
of  the  little  Kegent  as  she  flitted  about  in  the  discharge 
of  her  duties,  with  her  long  riding-dress  swung  over 
her  arm,  adorning  the  position  if  not  quite  filling  it. 

''JSTow,  Sarah,"  said  Mary,  "Margie  said  you  were  to 
get  out  whatever  the  people  would  want  until  she  came 
over." 

*'I  wish  Miss  Margie  would  come  'long  home  and 
'tend  to  her  house,"  said  Sarah  sullenly.  "  If  she  don't 
take  keer  she  won't  have  none  to  'tend  to  after  awhile," 
and  Sarah  filled  her  tray  from  the  corn-meal  barrel  by 
jerks,  expressive  of  her  irate  feelings. 

"  Oh !  not  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope,"  said  Mary  in  a  con- 
ciliatory tone.     '•  Do  the  soldiers  trouble  you  too  ?  " 

"  Trouble  !  "  and  Sarah  looked  up  from  the  monster 
piece   of  middling   she  was  cutting— "why,  dey  jes 


G6  WOMEN,  OR   CHRONICLES 

comes  in  and  take  what  they  wants,  widout  troublin' 
any  body  much  —  dat  is,  to  give  they  leave." 

"But  don't  they  pay  for  it?"  asked  Captain  Wil- 
liams. 

"  Oh  yc3,  sir,  dey  pays  for  it ;  but  you  can't  cat 
mone}^,  and  dey  don't  leave  you  nothin'  else  to  cat.  I 
wouldn't  mind,  but  when  de  white  folks  comes  dey  is 
sure  to  say  niggar  steal  it  all.  You  Jane  !  if  you  don't 
keep  out  of  my  way  I'll  take  somethin'  and  knock  you 
over."  This  last  threat  was  administered  to  a  child  of 
some  two  years  old  who  was  clinging  to  her  dress. 
"Dare,  set  whar  I  tell  you;  don't  you  move  agin," 
and  she  took  the  offender  by  the  arm  and  set  her 
down  very  hard  on  a  chair  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room. 

Sarah  was  a  tall,  nne-looking  mulatto,  powerfully 
made,  and  with  a  less  pleasant  expression  of  face  and 
manner  than  was  usual  with  her  race  ;  for  though  they, 
as  a  race,  are  extremely  passionate  in  temper,  retain- 
ing in  some  degree  the  elements  of  the  savage  in  their 
treatment  of  their  children,  yet  the  impulse  of  pas- 
sion is  soon  over,  and  they  are  for  the  most  joart  re- 
spectful and  amiable  in  their  deportment  to  their  supe- 
riors. 

"  "Why,  Sarah,"  said  3Iary,  iu  a  tone  of  gentle  re- 
proof, "you  are  not  giving  us  a  very  hospitable  recep- 
tion this  morning.  Captain  Murray  will  not  be  very 
much  pleased  when  I  tell  him  how  cross  you  were." 

"Well,  Miss  Mary,"  said  the  woman,  in  an  apologetic 
tone,  "I  beg  you  pardon.  But  rayly  dese  solgers  dus 
keep  a  body  so  rumbunkcious  all  de  time  dat  I  hardly 
knows  what  I  is  sayin'.  Ef  you  and  the  gent'men  will 
walk  in  de  i^arlor  I  will  have  you  some  nice  coffee  in  a 
minnit." 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  67 

The  invitation  was  declined  for  the  present,  as  they 
Avishcd  to  prosecute  their  ride  to  Hawk's  JSf  est ;  but  the 
promise  to  return  was  given,  when  Sarah  proposed  to 
make  amends  for  her  churlishness. 

Ifc  was  no  easy  matter  for  our  equestrians  to  make 
their  way  up  the  mountain.  The  foot-path  was  utterly 
impracticable,  but  they  found  b}^  going  round  for  some 
distance  and  making  a  gradual  approach  they  Avere 
able  to  attain  the  object  of  their  desires.  At  length 
they  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  immense  boulder  of  rock 
which  they  had  seen  hanging  far  above  their  heads  a 
few  minutes  since,  and  which  reared  itself  from  the 
very  summit  of  the  peak.  They  stood  at  a  great 
height  above  the  plain,  and  commanded  a  view  of  the 
whole  country  for  miles  around,  spreading  itself  be- 
fore them  like  a  vast  panorama  bounded  everj^where  by 
mountains.  The  peak  upon  which  they  stood  seemed, 
to  constitute  in  some  sort  a  centre  in  the  landscape, 
to  which  bounteous  JSTature  lavishly  supplied  cliffs, 
defiles,  and  ravines,  with  clear  spots  of  luxurious  field, 
w^iite  farm-houses  and  pretty  villages,  with  the  moun- 
tain stream  winding  in  and  out,  now  dashing  in  a 
waterfall,  and  now  flowing  like  a  luminous  serpent  as 
quietly  as  if  its  surface  had  never  known  a  ruffle. 

"  There  is  Rose  Hill,"  said  Mary,  pointing  to  a  clump 
of  variegated  trees  w^hich  almost  concealed  the  house ; 
'  and  down  here  Margie's  cottage  looks  like  a  baby-ho'dCOo 
Why  are  you  looking  so  earnestly  at  me,  Mr.  Williams?" 
"  I  was  just  thinking  how  little  you  had  changed  ex- 
cept in  stature  since  we  stood  here  before.  1  don't 
think  you  are  really  less  of  a  child  than  when  you 
stood  on  that  point  of  rock  to  have  your  picture  taken. 
I  wonder  if  you  could  not  climb  to  the  pinnacle  as 
actively  as  you  did  then," 


GS  WOMEX,  on  CIIROXICLE 

"Not  encumbered  with  a  riding-dress,"  said  Mary, 
laughing;  "though  without  that  I  don't  know  that  I 
would  require  much  urging." 

''  Suppose  we  try  it  on  horseback,"  said  Mr.  Dalhim. 
"I  will  lead  your  horse  and  ensure  your  safety." 

Mary  looked  around  in  surprise  at  the  daring  propo- 
sition, and  Captain  Williams  said: 

"  Surelj' Lieutenant  Dalham  is  joking  ;  he  would  not 
pro2:)Ose  so  perilous  an  enterprise  to  a  young  lady  under 
his  care." 

"  I  do  not  consider  it  at  all  perilous  to  anj^  one  who 
rides  as  well  as  Miss  Holcombe;  and  if  she  will 
submit  to  my  guidance  I  will  place  her  in  safety  at  the 
top  of  that  rock.  You  know,  my  dear  young  lady," 
said  Mr.  Dallam,  turning  to  Mary,  "  that  I  would  be 
the  last  person  in  the  world  to  propose  your  doing 
anj^thing  by  which  you  could  receive  injury,  and  in 
this  case  I  have  no  fears  for  the  result." 

Marj"  hesitated ;  she  saw  with  surprise  that  he  was 
more  interested  in  this  than  she  had  ever  known  him 
in  so  trivial  a  matter,  and  it  passed  through  her  mind 
that  she  was  willing  even  to  overcome  her  timidity  to 
gratify  him.  Mr.  Williams,  too,  presumed  a  little  upon 
his  former  position  of  authority;  it  would  not  be  amiss 
to  give  him  a  lesson. 

*'  I  have  half  a  mind  to  go,"  said  she,  turning  to  Mr. 
Dallam,  whose  eyes  flashed  with  positive  excitement  as 
he  sjDurred  his  horse  forward  to  take  her  rein,  in  which 
he  was  prevented  by  Mr.  Williams,  who  interposed 
himself  between  them,  and  without  looking  towards  the 
gentleman,  said  to  Mar}" : 

"  Excuse  me,  child,  but  you  are  nnder  my  care  to- 
day, as  I  first  asked  you  to  take  tliis  ride  with  me,  and 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  69 

I  shall  not  permit  you  to  go  upon  any  such  mad  expe- 
dition.-" • 

"Captain  Williams  presumes  upon  his  old  friendship 
too  much,"  said  Mary,  the  hot  blood  surging  up  to  her 
cheeks  ;  ''  he  forgets  that  I  am  no  longer  a  child.  I 
shall  have  to  remind  him  of  the  fact  by  doing  as  I 
please  in  this  matter.     Lieutenant  Dallam,  I  am  ready." 

Perhaps  she  was  right,  and  Captain  Williams  never 
had  realised  the  fact  before,  for  both  tone  and  manner 
liad  changed  when  he  spoke  again.  Though  there  was 
no  change  of  purpose  indicated  in  either,  there  was 
nothing  of  the  arbitrary  enforcement  of  it. 

"Marj^  Holcombe,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  entreaty, 
''by  the  past  and  the  future  I  do  beg  that  you  Avill  not 
persist  in  this  reckless  expedition,  the  prosecution  of 
which  is  as  foreign  to  your  taste  and  nature  as  it  can 
be.  If  you  were  to  be  seized  with  a  dizziness,  or  your 
horse  were  to  make  a  misstep,  nothing  could  save  you." 

She,  so  easily  influenced,  and  as  he  had  said  naturally 
so  timid,  half  yielded  to  his  earnestness,  which  moved 
her  at  once.  But  Mr.  Dallam  moving  forward,  said,  his 
eyes  still  gleaming  with  unusual  excitement: 

"  Captain  Williams,  I  will  not  submit  to  this  inter- 
ference. Miss  Holcombe  has  a  right  to  make  choice  of 
her  guide;  she  has  voluntarily  chosen  me,  and  with 
your  permission  I  will  assume  my  position." 

He  might  as  well  not  have  spoken,  for  the  notice 
which  Captain  Williams  took  of  his  words.  Still  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  Mar}',  he  repeated  it  as  though  it  were 
necessary  to  keep  it  before  her: 

^^Bj  all  that  you  remember  in  the  past,  by  all  we 
hope  for  in  the  future,  do  not  persist!  " 

"There  is  no  danger, Mr.  Williams,"  said  Mary,  with 


70  ]VOM£y,  OR  CHROXICLES 

painful  indecision  of  manner,  looking  first  at  one  and 
then  the  other.  But  Mr.  Williams  saw  that- she  only 
wanted  some  one  to  make  the  decision  for  her;  so 
leading  her  horse  forward,  without  another  word  he 
proceeded  past  Mr.  Dallam  down  the  mountain  road. 
This  the  latter  gentleman  would  have  prevented  if  Mary- 
had  not  said  to  him  : 

"Don't,  Mr.  Dallam;  I  dare  say  it  is  best.  Please 
don't  make  a  difficulty;"  and  to  reconcile  him  to  his 
disappointment,  she  bestowed  upon  him  her  sweetest 
smiles  and  kindest  words,  in  utter  forgetfulness  of  the 
stern-looking  man  withcompressed  lips  and  cheek  pale 
with  feeling  who  kept  his  hand  still  upon  her  bridle 
rein,  but  did  not  utter  a  word  until  they  reached  the 
plain  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  when  releasing  his 
hold  upon  her  rein  he  said : 

"  I  will  not  ask  you  to  forgive  me  now ;  I  feel  that 
it  would  be  useless.  I  am  willing  to  wait  for  a  calmer 
moment  for  my  vindication.  Nor  will  I  ask  you  to 
promise  me  not  to  persist  in  your  mad  enterprise;  in 
the  first  place  I  think  that  even  now  you  are  glad  you 
were  prevented,  and  next  I  do  not  believe  that  you 
will  deliberately  do  what  I  earnestly  advise  and  request 
that  you  will  not.  In  the  meantime  I  will  ride  on 
home,  as  it  is  best  for  all  that  the  party  as  a  party 
should  be  broken  up."  And  lifting  his  cap  from  his 
head  he  bowed  low  in  his  saddle  to  Mary,  and  without 
taking  any  notice  of  her  companion  rode  raj^idly  away. 

"  It  reminds  me,"  said  Mr.  Dallam,  "  of  children  at 
play.  Your  friend  is  sulky  and  declines  to  play  any 
more." 

Mary  did  not  laugh  as  usual ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  retreating  form  of  her  friend,  now  fast  disappearing 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  71 

in  tho  distance,  and  her  expression  showed  plainly  the 
regret  she  was  experiencing.  J\Ir.  DalUini  noted  the 
signs  of  the  times  and  hastened  to  arouse  that  opposi- 
tion which  pride  makes  inherent  in  her  sex. 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  really  think  the  gentleman  takes 
too  much  on  himself,  and  the  lesson  will  do  him  good. 
I  have  often  thought  in  your  amiable  attachment  to 
him  that  you  allowed  him  too  much  authority." 

Still  Mary  kept  her  eye  fixed  on  the  retreating  figure 
and  said  nothing  either  good  or  bad ;  until  finding  it 
necessary  to  break  the  silence,  grown  irksome  and 
embarrassing  from  its  length,  her  companion  ventured 
to  say : 

"Suppose  we  return  and  finish  our  expedition,  since 
your  self-elected  guardian  has  left  us  to  our  own 
devices." 

Slowly  the  truant  eyes  turned  towards  him,  as  if 
it  required  an  effort  for  the  young  lad}^  to  come  back 
to  the  present  in  which  he  formed  a  part.  In  an  in- 
stant, recalled  to  herself,  she  caught  up  the  reins  of  her 
horse,  and  riding  towards  the  little  cottage,  said  : 

*'  We  have  been  very  foolish  and  wrong,  Mr.  Dallam; 
and  I  shall  tell  Captain  Williams  so,  as  soon  as  we  get 
home.  He  is  too  old,  tried  and  true  a  friend  to  resign 
for  a  trifle;  and  besides,  I  am  glad  he  stojoped  us." 


WOMLW,   OR  CIIMOyiCLL'S 


CHAPTER   ril. 

"She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  woo'd; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  won  ; 
She  is  Lavjnia,  therefore  must  be  loved."  —  Shakspeare. 

"Mamma,  may  I  come  in?"  said  Maiy  Holcombc, 
knocking  at  Mrs.  Holcombe's  door  on  the  evening  of 
the  expedition  to  Hawk's  Nest. 

"  Certainly,  daughter,"  answered  a  gentle  voice,  and 
3Iary  found  her  with  her  sweet  smile  of  welcome,  sit- 
ting before  a  bright  fire,  half  ready  for  bed,  as  she  had 
thrown  on  a  blue  dressing-wrapper  and  was  brushing 
her  long  light  hair,  which  fell  around  her  person,  giving 
an  additional  softness  to  a  fiice  whose  chief  charm  at 
all  times  lay  in  the  sweet  refinement  and  gentleness  of 
its  expression. 

Mary's  first  action  was  very  childish,  as  she  knelt  be- 
fore her  mother,  and  putting  her  arms  about  her  waist, 
hid  her  face  in  her  bosom.  Something  in  the  action 
combined  with  the  embarrassed  flush  upon  her  cheek, 
revealed  the  fact  to  Mrs.  Holcombe  that  something 
more  than  ordinary  had  occurred  to  j^rompt  this  visit. 

Laying  aside  the  brush,  she  put  her  hand  upon  the 
bowed  head,  and  turning  back  her  face  kissed  the  lips 
now  smiling  up  at  her. 

"Come  for  confession,  little  girl?"  said  she,  smiling 
encouragingly;  "what  is  the  trouble?  You  know  I 
am  a  very  good  receptacle  for  such  commodities." 

The  only  answer  was  a  little  change  of  position, 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  73 

which  removed  the  cncirclmg  arms  from  her  waist  and 
placed  them  around  Mrs.  Ilolcombe's  neck,  and  that 
lady  was  surprised  to  feel  the  hot  tears  falling  heavily 
on  her  neck. 

"  Why,  my  child/'  she  said  in  alarm,  ^'  this  is  some- 
thing serious  j  you  do  not  often  cry.  Tell  me  what  is  the 
trouble." 

"jS'o  trouble  at  all,  I  suppose.  Mamma,"  said  Mary, 
laughing  through  her  tears;  "but  I  am  just  a  little 
nervous  about  telling  you." 

^'Telling  me  about  what?"  was  the  query  as  she 
put  her  arms  around  the  kneehng  figure  and  tried 
again  to  get  a  sight  of  the  hidden  face. 

<'  Well,  Mamma,  about  our  ride  to-day." 

^'  What  about  it ;  was  it  more  than  an  ordinary  ride  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  a  great  deal  more.  In  the  first  place  I  be- 
haved very  badly,  and  vexed  poor  Mr.  Williams  —  I 
never  can  remember  to  call  him  Captain  ;  and  he  rode 
off  homo  by  himself;  and  left  Mr.  Dallam  with  me." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  thinking  she 
had  grasped  the  whole  niystery.  "  But  he  is  so  good 
he  will  not  remember  it  after  you  have  told  him  you 
are  sorry." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that  he  is  the  best  friend  in  the  world; 
but  that  is  not  all." 

Mrs.  Holcombe  w^aited  in  silence  further  develop- 
ments ;  they  came  but  slowly. 

"  Mr.  Dallam  stayed  with  me,"  and  the  head  was  raised, 
but  not  the  eyes,  which  were  busy  looking  down  in  her 
mother's  lap  for  something  which  j^romised  to  be  hard 
to  find. 

''  Well,  Mr.  Dallam  stayed  with  you, '  repeated  Mrs. 
Holcombes.     "Did  a^ou  make  him  angry  too?" 


74:  WOMBS,   OR   CinioyWLES  "1 

''  Oh  no  !  not  at  all.  I  believe  he  likes  rae  very  much. 
Mamma !  Mamma !  that  is  it ;  ho  says  he  loves  me 
dearly,  and  I  have  promised  to  try  to  —  to  —  you  know 
what;  and  if  Papa,  and  you,  and  Margie,  and  brother, 
and  all,  think  it  is  not  absurd  for  me  to  talk  about  such 
things.  You  know  I  am  eighteen.  Mamma,  but  such  a 
silly  child;  and  it  seems  so  strange  for  such  a  man  to 
care  about  me  so  much." 

"  I  don't  think  so  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  trying 
to  repress  a  smile;  "it  is  the  very  natural  consequence 
of  his  being  thrown  with  you.  But  do  you  love  him  ? 
you  can't  marry  him  just  because  he  loves  you." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do;  indeed  I  know  I  do.  And  he 
loves  me  so  dearly !  And,  Mamma,  he  told  me  to-day  all 
about  himself;  he  has  had  so  much  trouble,  and  has  en- 
dured so  much  for  our  cause." 

"What  more  than  others?  '^ 

''Well,  you  know  he  is  a  Virginian  by  birth,  but  was 
living  in  Atlanta  at  the  time  the  war  broke  out.  Of 
course  he  enlisted  at  once,  and  was  elected  Lieutenant. 
What  was  his  surprise  and  sorrow,  then,  to  receive  a 
letter  from  his  fiither  here  in  Virginia  telling  him  to 
come  on  and  join  him,  as  he  had  removed  all  of  his 
property  to  the  Xorth,  and  should  remove  there  himself 
as  soon  as  his  son  made  their  family  complete.  Mr.  Dal- 
lam wrote  at  once,  most  earnestly  remonstrating  with 
him,  and  saying  that  in  any  event  he  should  cast  in  his 
fortunes  with  the  South.  His  father  was  very  angry, 
and  even  went  down  to  Atlanta  to  use  his  personal  in- 
fluence ;  and  when  he  found  it  was  all  useless  he  told 
him  that  he  should  disinherit  him,  and  left  him.  Since 
then  he  has  never  heard  even  from  his  mother  or  sister, 
and  I  know  that  is  what  so  often  makes  him  look  so 


OF  TUE  LATE   WAR  75 

sad  when  ho  is  in  his  quiet  moods.  Oh,  Mamma,  I 
never  will  tease  him  again  !  I  feel  so  sorry  for  him." 

Mrs.  Holcombe  smiled ;  she  had  not  forgotten  her 
youth,  and  could  sympathise  with  this  ardent  child. 
But  she  said : 

"Well,  dear,  you  know  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
arranging  of  these  affairs;  it  all  rests  with  Papa.  Of 
course  you  could  not  enter  into  any  engagement  with- 
out, his  consent,  and  I  want  you  to  prepare  yourself  for 
disappointment,  as  I  feel  sure  it  will  not  be  lightly 
given," 

"  Mamma  ! "  exclaimed  Mary,  with  an  accent  of  alarm, 
"you  don't  think  he  could  find  anything  to  object  to 
in  Mr.  Dallam,  do  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  dear;  you  know  that  beyond  our  ac- 
quaintance with  him  in  this  house  we  know  literally 
nothing  of  him,  except  what  he  himself  tells  us." 

"  Yes,  but.  Mamma,  of  course  what  he  says  is  true." 

"I  have  no  reason  for  doubting  it,  my  darling,  but 
still  I  cannot  answer  for  Papa.  He  will  do  what  is  best 
for  all  parties  ;  we  both  feel  that,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  but  oh.  Mamma,  I  thought  that  I 
could  go  to  him  and  tell  him  that  it  was  all  right.  I 
know  that  he  will  be  so  disappointed  !  and  I  never  want 
him  to  connect  the  idea  of  trouble  or  disappointment 
with  me  in  any  way,  because  he  has  had  so  much  al- 
ready, and  I  want  to  make  everything  bright  to  him." 

Mrs.  Holcombe  smiled  as  she  said : 

"You  have  developed  from  a  child  into  a  woman  in  a 
few  hours,  daughter.  Truly,  it  takes  but  a  touch  of 
this  mysterious  influence  upon  the  heart,  and  the  child 
is  gone  forever."  She  spoke  rather  to  herself  than  to 
her  companion,  and  her  tone  was  almost  regretful  that 


76  W0M£:^\  on  curonicles 

the  sweet  flower  of  girlhood  should  have  dropped  thus 
unexpectedly.  Then  seeing  Mary's  eyes  fixed  on  her 
with  anxiety,  she  kissed  her  and  said : 

"  There,  dear,  go,  if  Mr.  Dallam  is  waiting  for  you : 
Tell  him  what  I  say,  that  of  course  you  are  nothing  to 
each  other  until  Papa  gives  his  consent." 

Mary  rose  reluctantly,  feeling  as  if  she  were  about  to 
inflict  a  wound  upon  her  lover  by  the  news  of  this  delay, 
and  was  quite  relieved  when  he  laughed  at  her  serious 
face, 

"Why,  birdie,  it  is  nothing  but  the  delay  of  a  day. 
I  shall  go  to  Manassas  to-morrow,  and  be  back  here  to- 
morrow night  with  full  authority  to  claim  you.  I  don't 
feel  as  if  anything  in  this  world  could  ever  break  the  tie 
between  us,  now  that  you  have  spoken  the  word  —  thank 
God  for  it!  " 

"  But  oh,  suppose  Papa  should  object !  " 

''Object  to  what  ?  "  he  said,  contracting  his  brows. 
"I  challenge  investigation  in  every  particular;  my 
record  is  an  open  one.     Tou  are  mine!  mine!  mine!  " 

She  had  never  seen  him  so  transformed  as  he  was  to- 
night. The  man  was  art  his  best,  radiant,  triumphant; 
and  yet  even  now,  glowing  as  ho  was,  a,  keen  physiog- 
nomist would  have  pointed  to  the  mouth  with  its  full 
lips,  and  pronounced  it  indicative  of  weakness  and 
vacillation,    a   blot  upon  the  fair  surface  unerasable. 

But  Mary  Holcombe  was  no  physiognomist,  and  life 
looked  very  bright  to  her  through  this  bright  medium, 
and  her  heart  rose  and  swelled  with  his  enthusiasm; 
and  even  while  her  maidenly  reserve  kept  her  voice 
silent,  her  heart  echoed  that  triumphant  cry  of  his  as 
she  looked  at  him  in  his  glorious  beauty,  and  responded, 
"  Mine !  mine  !  mine  !  " 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  77 

The  next  morning  early  bo  was  off  to  Manassas,  but 
not  too  early  for  him  to  bo  able  to  wave  a  last  farewell 
to  that  youthful  figure  looking  after  him  from  the 
porch  ;  and  no  one  would  have  accused  him  of  noncha- 
lance or  indifference  as  he  sped  onward,  that  he  might 
the  sooner  return  to  the  goal  of  his  hopes. 

On  the  afternoon  of  this  same  day,  Mary  Holcombe, 
quite  by  accident  of  course^  walked  down  to  the  grove, 
book  in  hand,  and  seated  herself  in  "Margaret's 
Grotto."  Quite  as  much  by  accident,  she  did  not  seem 
at  all  anxious  to  possess  herself  of  the  contents  of  this 
same  book,  as  it  lay  unnoticed  on  her  lap,  while  her 
hand  supported  her  head,  and  out  of  her  eyes  looked 
a  new  expression  —  a  dreamy  light  very  different  from 
anything  we  have  seen  there  heretofore,  and  a  dewy 
brightness  like  the  sun  shining  upon  the  morning 
moisture. 

The  wind  stirred  softly  the  foliage  of  the  trees, 
though  ever  and  anon  Nature,  as  if  impatient  at  the 
stillness,  would  breathe  a  deeper  breath  through  the 
grove;  and  the  fair  girl,  starting  at  the  added  motion, 
would  listen  intently  for  some  expected  sound,  until  her 
cheek,  catching  the  excitement,  changed  its  hue  from 
the  soft  rose  to  the  glow  which  pervades  the  innermost 
seed  of  the  pomegranate ;  and  finally,  as  if  wearied 
with  this  continual  call  for  motion,  advancing  and 
receding,  which  her  nerves  required,  the  blood  re- 
mained in  her  cheek,  flushing  it  permanently  to  a  deeper 
hue  than  usual,  though  without  rejecting  the  increas- 
ing demand  upon  it,  which  demand  was  made  when  the 
unmistakable  sound  of  horses'  hoofs,  striking  regularly 
and  quickly  upon  the  hard  road,  and  approaching 
nearer  and  nearer,  broke  upon  the  stillness.   And  when 


78  WOMEX   Oil   CURONICLES 

the  young  girl  rose  from  her  rustic  seat  and  approached 
the  entrance  to  the  grotto,  which  commanded  a  view 
of  the  road  for  some  distance,  her  brow  and  delicate 
throat  x^artook  of  the  same  sanguine  hue.  The  one 
moment  which  elapsed,  however,  before  the  sound 
which  had  aroused  her  resulted  in  anything  tangible, 
enabled  her  to  command  back  this  unruly  tide,  and  to 
establish  the  mastery  over  her  forces,  and  to  all  ap- 
pearance she  was  a  very  quiet  and  composed  gazer 
down  the  road  upon  which  appeared  horse  and  rider. 
E'or  was  she  very  much  surprised  or  even  disappointed 
to  find  in  the  latter  her  returning  lover.  The  soft  hue 
of  her  dress  and  her  stillness  blended  her  so  perfectly 
with  surrounding  objects  that  he  but  saw  her  as  a 
little  piece  of  inanimate  nature,  until  he  was  close  upon 
her,  when,  looking  up,  he  caught  her  waiting  glance  and 
smile  of  welcome.  In  that  moment  her  quick  eye 
had  marked  with  a  sinking  heart  his  moody  sadness  of 
expression,  which,  however,  fled  in  an  instant  with  his 
exclamation  of  pleasure  at  sight  of  her;  and  there 
was  little  of  his  old  indolent  nonchalance  left  as  he 
leaped  from  his  horse  and  hurried  towards  her. 

"  This  is  more  than  I  had  dared  hope,"  he  said ;  "  and 
did  you  really  come  out  to  meet  me?  '' 

"Oh  no,  of  course  not,''  was  the  blushing  answer, 
though  her  compromise  with  truth  was  atoned  for  by 
a  laugh,  as  if  she  did  not  half  want  him  to  believe  her 
after  all ;  "  I  was  reading,  and  came  here  for  quiet  and 
meditation,"  and  she  held  up  the  book  as  her  crowning 
argument. 

He  answered  her  with  a  laugh  which  sounded  very 
much  as  if  he  did  not  believe  her  very  implicitly,  and 
rather  enjoyed  the  doubt  he  harbored. 


OP  TUB  LATE  WAR.  79 

"Well,  what  news?"  said  the  young  lady,  retiring 
within  the  grotto  and  seating  herself  upon  one  of  the 
grassy  seats. 

"  Oh,  good,  I  suppose ;  but  good  with  a  reservation," 
said  he,  with  a  return  of  his  moody  look,  and  throwing 
himself  on  the  grass  at  her  feet.  "  I  am  to  have  you, 
but  I  am  to  wait  for  you  until  the  close  of  the  war. 
Now,  every  hour's  waiting  is  purgatory  to  me ;  I  want 
you  now,  and  I  can't  have  you  !  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted 
to  cut  the  whole  concern  and  live  my  own  circum- 
scribed round  of  happiness.  But  this  will  explain  all," 
and  he  handed  her  a  letter. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  am  not  worth  waiting  for,"  said  she 
smiling,  as  she  opened  the  letter. 

"  Worth  waiting  for  a  thousand  years  if  one  had  it 
to  spare;  but  life  is  too  short  to  wait,"  was  the  answer. 

Camp  near  Manassas,  October  12th,  1861. 

My  darling  Child, —  I  do  feel  age  creeping  on  me 
trul}^  when  a  man  comes  to  me  to  ask  that  he  may 
take  you  as  his  wife  !  — you  whom  I  have  never  realised 
to  be  other  than  a  very  child.  I  had  to  stand  up  and  go 
over  the  years  and  find  that  you  were  all  of  eighteen 
before  I  recovered  from  my  surprise  sufficiently  to 
give  Lieutenant  Dallam  'even  an  ordinary  welcome. 
Eighteen !  can  it  be  possible  ?  It  seems  but  the  other 
day  and  your  own  mother  was  eighteen  and  my  bride ; 
and  Margie  was  also  a  wife  at  eighteen.  But  still  I 
cannot  bear  the  idea  of  your  throwing  away  your 
bright  young  girlhood  already.  If  I  had  half  a  dozen 
other  daughters  coming  on  it  would  be  different,  but 
you  are  the  last.  Why  can't  the  men  let  my  girls 
alone,  anyhow?    It  is  a  hard  case  after  a  man  has  had 


80  WOMi^N,  OB  CHRONICLES 

all  of  the  trouble  and  expense  of  bringing  up  a  family 
of  daughters,  just  to  hand  over  the  whole  thing  to  the 
first  fine  fellow  who  comes  along  and  wants  them. 

Now,  child,  so  much  for  your  old  father's  grumbling; 
but  he  docs  not  feel  for  all  that  that  he  has  any  right 
to  withhold  his  consent  without  good  reason.  Mamma 
writes  me  that  you  are  very  much  in  love.  Shame  upon 
you  !  AVho  ever  heard  of  a  decorous  young  female 
committing  such  an  impropriety? 

I  like  Mr.  Dallam  very  much ;  he  is  frank  and  open- 
hearted,  and  seems  in  earnest.  He  stands  very  well 
with  his  command,  and  has  shown  his  devotion  to  our 
cause  by  what  he  has  sacrificed.  So^my  child,  he  may 
look  forward  in  the  future  to  claiming  you  as  his  wife. 
These  are  no  times  to  be  '*  marrying  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage ;  "  wait  until  better  times  dawn  upon  us,  and  we 
will  wake  up  the  echoes  at  old  Eose  Hill  with  another 
Yirginia  wedding.     Love  to  all. 

Your  devoted  father, 

Edward  Holcombe. 

*•  "Well,"  said  Mary,  folding  up  her  letter,  "  I  think 
Papa  is  very  kind  and  reasonable." 

"  Then  I  am  unreasonable  and  unkind  by  contrast,  I 
presume,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  a  little  sulkily. 

''  No,  I  think  you  are  both  very  much  what  I  want 
you  to  be,"  and  she  blushed  and  laughed  with  pretty 
mischievous  shyness.  "  I  think  it  is  very  delightful  in 
him  not  to  want  to  give  me  up;  and  —  and  —  well,  and 
very  charming  in  you  to  want  me  so  very  much."^ 

"  As  if  any  one  could  help  it !  "  said  he,  looking  up  at 
her.  And  I  think  but  few  of  his  sex  would  have  made 
an  issue  with  him  on  that  question,  as  she  leaned  for- 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  81 

ward  towards  him,  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and 
her  white  hands  supporting  her  fiice,  so  full  of  softness, 
brightness,  youth  and  beauty. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  be  satisfied,"  said  she;  "  it  will 
give  you  an  opportunity  of  seeing  me  in  a  new  light. 
i  am  going  to  be  so  very  constant  that  it  will  be  a  con- 
tinually recurring  happiness  to  you." 

"I  don't  know,  indeed,"  said  he,  imitating  her  ban- 
tering tone.  '*  I  don't  believe  you  can  help  smiling  on 
all  these  fellows ;  and  if  you  once  smile  they  are  gone." 

"  Nonsense,  that  is  all  your  partiality.  But  if  you 
will  only  be  satisfied,  I  won't  smile  even." 

"  Oh,  oh,  that  will  never  do ;  I  wouldn't  like  to  think 
of  you  in  anything  different  from  what  you  are  now.  I 
have  you  painted  here,"  putting  his  hand  on  his  heart, 
"and  shall  want  to  see  you  unchanged  when  I  come 
back  again." 

This  was  their  last  conversation  for  some  time,  as 
Mr.  Dallam's  leave  having  expired,  the  next  morning 
saw  him  on  his  way  back  to  his  regiment. 

Captain  Williams  had  been  away  during  the  progress 
of  these  events,  having  left  immediately  after  the  affair 
at  Hawk's  Nest  to  visit  some  friends  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  he  did  not  return  until  after  Mr.  Dallam's 
departure,  so  was  in  ignorance  of  the  existing  state  of 
things.  The  evening  of  his  return  Mary  sought  him 
out  and  said : 

"  Mr.  Williams,  I  have  never  had  an  opportunity  of 
telling  you  how  very  sorry  I  was  for  the  way  I  behaved 
the  other  day  ;  it  was  both  silly  and  ungrateful.  Won't 
you  forgive  me?  " 

"Not  a  very  hard  thing  to  do  when  you  ask  with 
that  pleading  face,"  said  he,  taking  her  hand  and  smil- 
5* 


82  WOMLW,   on  CHRONICLES  "] 

ing.    "I  always  knew  it  was  more  due  to  the  influcnco 
you  were  under  than  anything  else." 

"  Indeed  you  are  wrong,"  was  the  eager  ansv/er  j  ''  ho 
was  as  sorry  as  I  was." 

Captain  Williams  looked  incredulous  as  ho  answered  : 

"  Well,  perhaps  so  ;  but  I  confess  I  am  not  very  much 
prepossessed  in  favor  of  the  young  man  —  an  idle  dog, 
without  any  settled  principle  to  sustain  him." 

**  Oh,  Mr.  Williams !  "  and  she  disengaged  her  hand 
from  his,  though  with  an  expression  more  of  grief  than 
anger,  ^'  I  know  you  would  not  say  so  if  you  knew 
him.  How  much  he  has  sacrificed  for  principle  !  And 
besides,  you  must  not  talk  so  to  me,"  looking  down 
and  pointing  him  to  a  ring  on  her  finger  as  she  spoke  ; 
*'  I  am  eneracced  to  be  married  to  him." 

Had  the  sky  fallen  she  could  not  have  been  more  as- 
tonished than  she  was  by  the  effect  of  her  words. 
Seizing  her  arm  with  a  grasp  almost  painful  to  her,  his 
eyes  blazing  like  burning  coals,  looking  out  from  his 
pale  agitated  face,  he  almost  shouted  : 

"  Child,  you  don't  know  what  you  do  !  it  cannot  be 
so.  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  give  you  up  to  him, 
after  watching  you  maturing  for  me  through  all  these 
years?  Do  you  know  that  you  utterly  destroy  me  by 
such  an  avowal  ?  " 

Pale  and  terrified  by  his  violence,  Mary  could  only 
articulate :  "Oh,  Mr.  Williams,  you  never  told  mc." 

"  Told  you  ?  no !  Break  in  upon  the  sweet  early  maid- 
enhood of  a  child  like  you  with  a  tale  such  as  mine? 
i^o,  I  left  that  for  others.  Fool !  dolt !  that  I  have  been 
not  to  see  what  was  going  on.  To  lock  myself  up  in 
careless  security,  and  allow  another  to  reap  where  I 
had  sown!     And  that  other!     May  God  have  mercy 


OF  TUE  LATE   ^YAll  83 

Upon  us  both!''  And  the  strong  man  bowed  his  face 
in  his  hands. 

A  dead  silence  rested  upon  the  two  for  the  space  of 
a  minute.  Once  Mary  put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it  in 
his,  but  without  seeming  to  be  conscious  of  the  action. 
He  shook  it  off  as  if  the  very  touch  was  pain  too  great 
to  be  borne.  At  last  ho  raised  his  head  and  found  her 
sitting  there,  her  usually  bright  face  convulsed  with 
sobs  of  pity  and  grief. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  very  gently,  ''  I  have  frightened 
and  grieved  you.  I  have  been  selfishly  considering  my- 
self alone  in  this  matter.  There,  don't  sob  so  I  God 
knows  I  would  sacrifice  myself  any  time  to  save  you  sor- 
row. But  it  has  been  such  a  cherished  dream,  and 
sad  awakening ! "  He  did  not  tell  her  that  he  could 
better  have  borne  to  see  her  in  her  grave  than  to  have 
given  her  where  she  had  given  herself.  He  did  not  tell 
her  that  even  now  he  would  gladly,  with  no  selfish 
feeling,  put  her  in  the  arms  of  a  man  worthy  of  her. 
No  ;  but  he  thought  it  all  bitterly  enough. 

"  If — I  had — only — known,"  sobbed  Mary  f "  but  I  nev 
— never — suspected  such — a  thing;  you — were  so — 
much  older — and  wiser  than  I." 

Captain  "Williams  smiled  a  very  sad  smile  j  he  had 
been  so  young  in  his  thoughts  of  her  always. 

"Look  at  this,  Mary,"  he  said,  taking  from  his  bosom 
a  package  and  opening  it ;  "  here  is  the  date  of  my 
idea. " 

She  looked  and  saw  an  exquisite  painting  of  a  child 
with  long  sunny  hair,  standing  on  a  ledge  of  rock,  and 
the  bright  beams  of  a  morning  sun  lighting  up  the 
figure  with  glorious  beauty.  She  remembered  it  all, 
so   long   ago.      She   recalled   her   childish   delight   as 


81  WOMEJ^,   OB  CUROmCLES 

she  stood  there  to  have  her  likeness  made,  remem- 
bered her  pride  when  she  looked  at  the  rough  draft, 
but  she  could  not  connect  any  such  simple  scene  with 
the  present ;  it  seemed  unnatural  and  wrong. 

As  if  answering  her  thought,  Mr.  Williams  said  : 

"I  do  not  mean  for  an  instant  that  a  child  such  as 
you  were  then  was  capable  of  inspiring  a  mature  man 
with  a  strong  passion,  but  then  and  there  I  tried  first 
to  picture  the  beauty,  grace,  and  loveliness  of  character 
which  might  be  built  upon  that  foundation,  and  from 
this  I  formed  my  ideal  of  what  my  wife  should  be  ;  but 
I  did  not  have  the  least  desire  to  hasten  this  develop- 
ment. I  dwelt  upon  each  step  towards  maturity  with 
delight,  and  so  sweet  was  each  to  my  heart  that  I  would 
fain  have  bid  it  stay  forever.  Blind,  blind  that  I  was ! 
I  never  thought  of  your  fixing  your  affections  on  any 
one  else.^' 

Mary  looked  helplessly  miserable  through  her  tears. 
Was  it  disloyalty  to  her  betrothed  lover  that  the  thought 
came  unbidden  to  her :  Had  she  known  all  this  long 
ago  it  might  have  been  different?  She  may  have  thought 
so,  for  her  words  were  almost  like  a  reparation  as  sho 
raised  her  tearful  eyes  to  his  : 

"Mr.  Williams,  I  do  not  think  it  is  good  for  either  of 
us  to  talk  this  way.  It  does  not  —  pardon  me  for 
saying  it,  but  it  does  not  seem  right  for  me  to  listen  to 
such  confessions  now,  nor  does  it  help  you  to  make 
them.  You  scarcely  grieve  over  this  more  than  I  do ; 
and  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  ask  it,  but  indeed,  in- 
deed I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  give  up  your  friendship  —  it 
has  made  so  much  of  my  life.  Oh,  Mr.  Williams!  we 
are  both  so  young  and  untried:  be  our  friend,  will  you 
not?" 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR. 


85 


He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment ;  it  seemed  as  if  ho 
could  not.  If  she  had  said  -  Be  my  friend,"  ho  would 
have  responded  promptly;  but  the  "our"  went  to  his 
heart:  it  seemed  to  set  a  seal  to  the  misery  of  his  own 
fate  —  the  loneliness  of  his  life. 

*' You  will  not  need  me,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Oh,  doQ't  say  that,  my  friend !  There  is^no  one  in  this 
world  who  could  take  your  place  to  me ;  you  are  con- 
nected with  alQiost  all  of  my  life.  I  do  depend  upon 
you." 

'^Oh,  Mary,"  ho  said,  *'you  ask  a  hard  favor  at  my 
hands,  and  yet  ono  which,  God  helping  me,  I  will  not 
refuse  to  you. .  I  could  never  be  other  than  the  best 
fncnd  to  you  the  warmest  affection  of  mv  heart  could 
make  me,  and  for  your  sake  I  will  bo  to^him  also.     I 
will  try  to  bury  self  in  my  great  desire  for  your  best 
happiness  and  good,  my  child.     Try  and  forget  what  I 
have  said  this  morning.     Doubtless  I  shall  dovery  well; 
at  any  rate,  always  know  that  you  can  come  to  me  for 
any  help  I  can  give."    He  rose  up  as  he  spoke,  and  she 
put  her  hand  in  his.   For  one  moment  he  bent  over  her 
as  if  he  was  irresistibly  impelled  to  take   her  to  his 
heart  in  a  last  parting;  but  if  he  had  such  thouo-ht  it 
never  vented  itself  in  action,  as  he  turned  away,  and 
leapmg  over  a  fence  at  a  little  distance,  disappeared  in 
the  direction  of  the  stables.     Mary  retired  to  her  own 
room,  and  came  down  at  dinner-time,  to  hear  that  Mr. 
Wilhams  had  gone,  leaving  his  love  and  adieus  for  her 
She  wandered  about  all  day  in  a  dream.    Her  mother 
and  sister  rallied  her  upon  her  low  spirits,  attributing 
It  to  the  parting  from  her  lover;  but  could  they  have 
heard  the  note  of  her  heart  they  would  have  been  sur- 
prised at  the  sad  refrain  it  was  repeating  over  and  over 


86  WOJIJSX  OR  CUROXICLES 

again.  ''  I  never  wished  to  hasten  this  development. 
I  dwelt  upon  each  step  towards  maturity  with  delight, 
and  so  sweet  was  each  to  my  heart  that  I  would  fain 
have  bid  it  stay  forever;  "  and  she  found  herself  wish- 
ing more  than  once  that  she  had  known  J\Ir.  Dallam 
thus  long  that  he  might  so  express  his  love. 


OP  TilE  LATE  WAR.  87 


CHAPTEE    YIII. 

"Man's  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart ; 
'Tis  woman's  whole  existence." — Byron. 

Mrs.  Holcombe  sat  alone  at  the  breakfast-table  at  the 
close  of  the  morning  meal.  The  rest  of  the  family  had 
but  a  moment  before  left  the  room,  and  Robin  and 
Tom,  the  two  dining-room  servants,  were  moving  busily 
about,  removing  the  debris  of  the  meal,  piling  together 
at  one  end  of  the  table  the  china  which  had  been  used 
preparatory  to  the  final  '^washing  up,"  an  operation 
which  Mrs.  Holcombe  always  superintended  in  person, 
and  indeed  took  part  in,  as  might  be  inferred  from  the 
pile  of  white  towels  at  her  elbow,  one  of  which  was  un- 
folded and  lay  ready  for  use  upon  her  lap.  But  the 
thoughts  of  the  active  housekeeper  were  far  away  from 
the  homely  affairs  of  her  household.  One  hand  sup- 
ported her  head,  and  the  sweet,  fair  face  wore  a  cloud 
of  care  and  anxiety  very  different  from  its  ordinary  ex- 
pression of  calm  content  and  quiet  happiness.  The 
gentle  gleam  of  the  Avarm  brown  eyes  took  in  none  of 
the  surrounding  objects;  they  had  travelled  far  off  after 
her  thoughts  and  her  heart  to  the  camp  and  the  battle- 
field. She  w\as  startled  from  her  reverie  by  an  un- 
musical voice  at  her  side  : 

"  Good  morn  in',  Misstis." 

*' Ah,  Aunt  Ailsie,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  did  not 
hear  you  come  in,"  and  the  unselfish  nature  banished 
at  once  the  thoughts  which,  although  painful,  were  still 


88  WOMEy,  on  CHRONICLES 

sweet,  and  the  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  of  gracious 
welcome  to  the  poor  dependent. 

"  Thank  you,  Misstis,"  said  the  old  woman,  bowing 
low,  and  speaking  with  a  peculiar  lisp  :  "I  is  still  spy- 
arin  —  tumblin'  over  the  clods  on  pleadin'  groun'." 

Although  this  had  been  her  normal  condition  when- 
ever Mrs.  Holcombe  had  spoken  to  her,  it  always  pro- 
voked a  smile,  and  it  was  with  a  face  of  genuine  amuse- 
ment that  she  pursued  her  inquiries. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  it,  Aunt  Ailsie.  I  hope  too  that 
you  are  right  well?" 

"  Well,  not  so  vay,  my  Misstis ;  I  is  somewhat  ham- 
stringded,"  rubbing  as  she  spoke  her  lower  limbs. 
"And  I  is  got  a  turble  misery  in  my  back,"  swaying 
her  person  back  and  touching  the  suffering  member 
with  a  lachrymose  countenance  \  "en  a  goneness  en  a 
colencss  in  my  insides,"  extending  both  of  her  ample 
hands  so  as  to  cover  the  entire  front  of  her  trunk. 

"Indeed,  I  am  very  sorry;  can  I  do  anything  for 
you  ?  "  was  the  sympathising  rejoinder. 

"  Well,  Misstis,  I  thinks  a  little  of  your  hot  coffee 
might  do  me  some  good  ;  'twould  warm  me  up  a  little," 
and  she  handed  her  as  she  spoke  a  battered  tin-cup, 
showing  that  the  remedy  had  been  a  foregone  conclu- 
sion. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  laughing.  ''  Eobin, 
fill  Aunt  Ailsie's  cup  for  her." 

"And  don't  furgit  de  sugar,  Misstis,  if  you  please; 
sugar  is  vay  good  for  de  insides." 

"Be  sure  and  put  plenty  of  sugar,  Eobin,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  Thank  you,  Misstis;  'twas  a  blessed  day  when  you 
come  here  to  look  arter  we  poor  uiggars.  When  you 
hear  fum  Marster?" 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  89 

"Oh,  Aunt  Ailsic,  not  for  some  time,"  and  with  a 
deep  sigh  the  burden  Avas  resumed  and  the  cloud  again 
overshadowed  the  fiice.  "I  hope  ho  will  be  at  home 
soon." 

^' Yes,  Misstis,  I  trus'  de  Lord  will  fotch  him  home 
'fore  long,  an'  not  let  enythin'  hurt  him.  Wo  miss  him 
bad  cnuf.     When  will  de  fitin'  be  dun  ?" 

"  God  only  knows.  Aunt  Ailsie  ;  I  feel  in  despair 
about  it.     Oh  this  dreadful,  dreadful  war !  " 

The  knob  of  the  door  had  been  turned  twice  during 
this  conversation,  as  if  some  one  on  the  other  side  was 
trying  to  gain  courage  to  enter;  and  no  better  com- 
mentary upon  her  last  sad  exclamation  could  have  been 
given  than  Captain  Murray's  face  of  grave  seriousness 
which  now  appeared  looking  in  upon  them. 

"Jean,"  said  he,  coming  up  to  her  and  putting  his 
arm  around  her.  "come  with  me,  my  sister;  I  have 
something  to  say  to  yo\x" 

It  needed  no  further  words  to  convey  to  Mrs.  IIol- 
combe's  mind  the  apprehension  of  heartrending  intelli- 
crence.  Women  held  their  treasures  in  those  sad  times 
by  too  frail  a  tenure  to  need  much  preparation  for  sur- 
rendering them ;  but  if  she  wanted  confirmation  for 
her  fears,  the  sound,  which  fell  upon  her  ears  through 
the  open  door,  of  suppressed  cries  and  sobs  would  have 
been  sufficient.  A  being  of  a  stronger  nature  than 
Mrs.  Holcombe  would  have  vented  her  sorrow  in 
shrieks  and  cries ;  she  only  twined  her  arms  about 
her  brother,  and  her  broken  wail  told  its  tale  not  less 
touchingly  for  its  gentleness. 

"Ah,  Eobcrt,  tell  me  he  is  not  dead!  I  can  bear 
anything  else." 

'^No,  no,  my  sister,  only  a  very  bad  wound  ;  and 
you  must  go  to  him." 


90  WOMEy,   OR  CUROXICLES 

'•'  Oh,  yes  !  let  me  go  now  !  "  she  gasped,  starting  for- 
ward towards  the  door.  "  Where  is  he?"  But  her 
strength  failed  her  and  she  fainted. 

The  letter  had  been  brought  by  the  hand  of  3Ir. 
Holcombe's  own  servant,  who  had  gone  with  liini  to 
the  field.  It  was  directed  to  Mrs.  Ilolcombe,  but 
James  said  the  doctor  had  told  him  if  there  was  any 
gentleman  there  to  let  him  read  it  first.     It  ran  thus: 

Brandy  Station,  October  10th,  1861. 

My  Dear  Madam, —  Mr.  Hoicombe  requests  me  to 
write  to  you  this  morning,  as  he  is  unable  to  do  so 
owing  to  a  severe  wound  received  yesterday  in  a  skir- 
mish with  the  enemy.  The  bullet  entered  his  thigh, 
shattering  the  bone.  I  w^ill  not  conceal  from  you,  my 
dear  madam,  that  he  is  in  great  danger ;  the  more  so 
because  he  lay  for  some  time  before  help  reached  him; 
but  with  the  blessing  of  God  he  may  recover.  Ampu- 
tation of  the  limb  is  absohitely  necessary,  and  vrill  be 
done  as  soon  as  he  recovers  strength  sufficient  to  stand 
the  operation.  As,  however,  he  may  not  survive,  he 
earnestly  desires  that  you  will  come  to  him  as  soon  as 
you  receive  this.  And  as  our  hospital  arrangements 
are  very  incomplete,  and  it  is  impossible  to  procure  for 
him  such  comforts  as  are  necessary  to  him  in  his 
present  condition,  I  would  advise  that  you  bring  with 
you  an^nhing  of  the  kind  you  can  command  on  so 
short  a  notice. 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  abruptness  and  apparent 
harshness  of  my  words,  and  accept  the  sincere  sym- 
pathy of, 

Yours  respectfully, 

James  Cooper,  M.  D. 


OF  THE  LATE    WAR.  91 

The  whole  house  was  in  a  state  of  confasion. 
Miirgiirefc  and  Mary  -went  about  the  preparations  for 
Mrs.  Ilolcombc's  departure  with  tearful  eyes.  Maids 
might  be  seen  hurrjnng  hero  and  there  witli  articles  of 
clothing  or  house-linen  over  their  arms,  while  in  the 
midst  of  business  the  same  air  of  sadness  pervaded  all. 
The  tempest  cannot  sweep  down  the  noble  oak  without 
rending  its  roots  even  to  the  smallest  fibre. 

In  order  that  her  strength  might  be  husbanded  for 
the  coming  journey  and  the  fatigue  she  must  undergo 
at  the  end  of  it,  Mrs.  Holcombe  was  induced  to  lie 
down  in  her  own  room;  indeed  she  was  so  stunned 
and  shattered  by  the  blow  Avhich  had  fallen  with  such 
crushing  weight  upon  her,  that  she  was  utterly  inca- 
pable for  a  time  of  any  exertion. 

When  Eddy  heard  the  sad  news  he  seized  his  gun,  and 
stalking  out,  declared  vengeance  on  the  '•  Yankees;  "  but 
he  ended  on  the  bed  beside  "  mamma,"  where  in  his 
own  way  he  comforted  her,  crying  because  she  cried, 
and  at  last,  with  the  happy  i^rivilege  of  childhood,  sob- 
bing himself  to  sleep.  And  so  she  left  him,  and  to 
others  the  task  of  consolation  after  her  departure. 

It  was  decided  to  pack  a  wagon  with  such  articles  as 
might  promote  the  comfort  of  the  sufferer,  including  a 
bed  and  plenty  of  house-linen,  also  brandy,  wine,  and 
such  other  luxuries  as  the  house  afforded ;  and  thus 
not  only  the  supplies  could  be  as  abundant  as  the  love 
and  anxiety  of  the  household  desired,  but  that  the 
progress  of  the  carriage  over  the  rough  mountain 
road  might  be  unimpeded  by  burdensome  baggage. 

As  Mrs.  Holcombe  took  her  seat  in  the  carriage  and 
was  receiving  the  last  farewells  and  messages  from  her 
weeping  daughters,  a  qucoi'-looking  old  figure,  clad  in 


92  WOMEN,   on   CJIRONICLES 

a  blue  cotton  dress  and  -white  apron,  with  a  long  calico 
sun-bonnet  stuck  upon  the  top  of  a  stupendous  turban, 
while  the  voluminous  folds  of  a  blanket-shawl  envel- 
oped her  person,  presented  herself  at  the  carriage 
door.     It  was  Mammy. 

*'  Stop  a  minute,  my  childern  ;  your  old  Mammy  is 
goin'  too." 

"  Oh,  Mammy  !  "  remonstrated  Jean,  "I  am  afraid  it 
is  impossible;  there  will  be  nowhere  for  you  to  stay, 
and  you  cannot  stand  being  put  about  anywhere,  as 
you  could  when  you  were  j'ounger." 

*•'  I  don't  want  nowhere  to  stay,  Miss  Jean,  but  right 
by  ray  marster's  bed  —  that's  my  place  ;  "  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears  as  she  added  in  an  imploring  voice, 
stretching  out  her  arms,  "  dese  arms  wus  de  fust  dat 
ever  had  hold  of  him,  en  dey  ain't  never  been  none  of 
de  family  sick  or  dien  dat  I  ain't  nust.  I  is  helpt  to 
bring  'em  in  de  world  and  to  shet  dey  eyes  when  dey 
lef  it,  an  dus  you  think  dat  I  is  goin'  to  let  enybody 
help  you  to  nuss  my  Mars  jS'ed  but  me  ?  If  you 
dunnot  choose  for  me  to  ride  wid  you  in  de  carriage, 
you  has  a  right  to  say  so ;  but  'fore  God,  Misstis  1  I 
never  thot  to  be  a  runaway  nigger  yet,  but  ef  you 
won't  'gree  to  my  goin'  I  will  start  off  and  walk,  and 
maybe  you  will  fine  your  ole  Mammy  layin'  dead  by 
de  roadside  somewhar ;  but  'twill  be  on  her  way  to 
whar  Mars  ^ed  is." 

There  was  no  further  opposition  to  Mammy's  will 
after  that,  nor  was  Jean  sorry  to  have  the  company  of 
the  faithful  old  creature. 

Their  way  lay  over  a  mountainous  country,  and  at 
any  other  time  Mrs.  Holcombe  would  have  been  lost 
in  admiration  of  the  beauty  cf  the  scenery,  but  it 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  93 

passed  unnoticed  now.  Mr.  Murray  rode  on  ahead,  but 
every  now  and  then,  where  the  road  was  wide  enough 
to  admit  of  it,  he  would  return  beside  the  carriage  and 
strive  to  divert  her  mind  into  a  more  cheerful  channel 
by  pointing  out  objects  of  interest;  but  he  soon  dis- 
covered that  the  very  effort  to  seem  interested  ex- 
hausted her,  and  left  her  to  her  own  sad  thoughts. 

It  was  nearly  sundown  when  they  reached  their 
journey's  end,  nor  was  the  prospect  which  met  the 
eyes  of  our  travellers  one  calculated  to  have  a  cheering 
influence  upon  them.  They  seemed  to  have  passed 
quite  out  of  the  region  of  luxuriant  vegetation  into 
bleak  desolation.  Brandy  Station  could  scarce  be  dig- 
nified with  the  name  of  town.  There  was  the  inevitable 
long,  low  building  which  enlivens  the  eye  of  the  trav- 
eller in  passing  over  Virginia  railways,  a  blacksmith- 
shop,  and  one  or  two  miserable-looking  wooden  dwell- 
ings in  the  distance.  As  the  carriage  drew  up  in  front 
of  the  depot,  its  occupants  peered  anxiously  from  the 
window  in  search  of  some  human  being  of  whom  they 
could  make  the  necessary  inquiries.  But  in  vain.  There 
were  two  or  three  horses  with  cavalry  accoutrements 
tied  to  a  rack  at  a  little  distance  ;  but  this  was  the 
only  circumstance  which  relieved  the  mind  from  the 
impression  that  they  had  stumbled  upon  a  faded  edi- 
tion of  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village.  The  horses  must 
have  had  riders,  was  the  inevitable  conclusion  arrived 
at  in  Mr.  Murray's  thoughts,  and  it  was  to  find  these 
riders  he  directed  his  first  actions.  Dismountinoj  has- 
tily  and  fastening  his  horse,  he  ran  up  the  steps  and 
entered  the  first  door  which  he  encountered.  It  led  him 
into  a  long,  low  room,  which  was  filled  with  barrels 
and  boxes,  and  seemed  to  be  used  as  a  storehouse  for 


94  WOMBJV,   OB   CHRONICLES 

commissary  stores.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  was 
fixed  a  battered  old  stove,  the  dirt  and  rust  of  which 
had  been  permitted  to  accumulate  until  the  advent  of 
more  prosperous  times  should  encourage  such  peace  oc- 
cupations as  cleaning.  The  evening  was  cool,  and  a 
fire  had  been  lighted,  around  which  three  or  four  men 
in  gray  were  sitting  with  their  boots  drawn  over  their 
pants,  their  leathern  caps  stuck  sideways  on  the  head 
or  slouched  down  over  the  eyes,  and  their  feet  elevated 
to  a  position  somewhat  higher  than  their  heads,  which 
position  was  facilitated  by  the  tilting  back  of  their 
chairs  and  the  convenient  support  afforded  by  the  high 
stove,  which  served  not  only  to  diffuse  a  warmth 
through  the  room  but  also  for  the  2:>urpo3e  of  footstool. 
This  accounted  for  the  stron^:  smell  of  bnrnino-  leather 
which  pervaded  the  apartment  as  ]\Ir.  Murray  entered. 

The  consciousness  of  his  presence  was  instantly  signi- 
fied by  the  noise  of  the  chairs  resuming  their  original  and 
natural  positions,  and  the  three  occupants  thereof  rose 
and  doffed  their  caps  in  deference  to  his  superior  rank. 

"  I  am  looking  for  Captain  Holcombe,  who  is  lying 
wounded  somewhere  about  here  —  can  you  tell  me 
where  ?  "  said  Captain  ]\Iurray,  returning  the  salutation. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  men,  acting  as  spokesman 
for  the  rest,  and  pointing  to  one  of  the  small  dwellings 
which  we  have  before  noticed;  *' that's  the  hos-j;iY-al 
over  there.  He  is  pretty  bad,  I  am  afraid,  and  a  great 
loss  he'd  be  to  us  too.     He  is  a  brave  man,  he  is.'' 

TVithout  waiting  to  pursue  the  question  of  his 
brother-in-law's  merits  as  a  soldier,  Mr.  [Murray  has- 
tened out  to  his  sister,  to  whom  in  her  great  anxiety 
and  suspense  the  few  moments  of  his  absence  had 
seemed  an  age.    Hastily  mounting,  he  rode  before  the 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAR.  95 

carriage  to  the  place  signified,    where  he  found   the 
doctor  ill  attendance  upon  his  patient. 

Jean  never  knew  distinctly  how  she  got  through 
those  few  minutes  which  intervened  between  her  ar- 
rival and  her  entrance  to  a  bare,  comfortless-looking 
room,  containing  as  almost  its  only  furniture  a  pallet 
of  straw  with  an  army-blanket  stretched  over  it ;  and 
from  this  she  saw  two  arms  extended  towards  her,  and 
heard  a  voice  so  feeble  and  broken  that  she  would  not 
have  recognised  it  if  it  had  not  said  : 

''  Oh  Jean,  at  last !  at  last !  " 

In  another  moment  she  was  on  the  bare  boards  be- 
side her  husband,  and  he  alone  heard  her  whispered 
ejaculation  :  "  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  " 

"  And  Eobert  and  Mammy,  too,"  said  the  sick  man, 
after  a  few  moments  in  which  he  had  been  conscious 
of  but  one  presence  in  the  room  ;  "  this  is  delightful ! 
more  than  I  dared  hope." 

The  wagon  soon  arrived,  and  the  sufferer  was  before 
long  lifted  into  a  bed  of  comparative  luxuriance,  and 
surrounded  by  everything  which  the  most  devoted  love 
could  supply ;  while  the  doctor  spoke  hopefully  of  his 
soon  being  able  to  undergo  the  operation  which, 
though  it  would  rob  him  of  a  portion  of  his  body, 
would  greatly  facilitate  his  recover3^ 

Mr.  Murray  was  obliged  to  turn  his  face  towards 
"  Eose  Hill  "  that  night,  as  he  w^as  anxious  to  carry 
some  relief  to  the  sad  hearts  of  its  inmates,  and  besides 
was  himself  forced  to  rejoin  his  regiment  in  a  few  days. 

Brandy  Station,  October  14th,  18G1. 
My  Dear  Girls, —  The  fearful  trial  is  over  at  last, 
and   the   doctors   think  favorably   of   our   dear   one, 


96  WOMEy,   OR  CUROXICLES 

though  of  course  he  is  terribly  exhausted.  I  \Yantcd 
to  stay  with  him,  but  they  would  not  licar  of  it ;  and  I 
dare  sa}'  they  were  right.  "Women  are  very  good-for- 
nothing,  no-account  sort  of  creatures  ;  but  dear  old 
Mammy  would  not  leave,  and  held  his  hand  all  the 
time.  He  says  he  did  not  suffer  much,  as  he  was  under 
the  influence  of  chloroform  ;  and  now  his  principal  dis- 
comfiture arises  from  a  distinct  impression  of  the  foot 
which  he  says  he  feels  all  the  time.  He  actually  made 
me  put  my  hand  down  in  the  bed  to  feel  for  it  this 
morning.  He  is  wonderfully  cheerful  and  don't  mind 
his  loss  as  much  as  I  do,  though  I  dare  say  he  conceals 
his  feeling  on  my  account. 

The  wagon  arrived  yesterday  before  the  operation, 
and  we  had  the  bedstead  put  up  and  his  room  looking 
nicely  before  the  doctors  arrived. 

I  think  you  can  all  ride  over  to  see  him  next  week 
if  he  continues  to  improve,  and  I  will  try  and  persuade 
Mammy  to  go  back  with  you.  I  feel  so  uneasy  about 
her.  She  has  no  place  to  stay,  and  all  the  sleep  she 
gets  is  sitting  straight  up  in  her  chair.  I  am  thankful 
enoufrh  thousch  that  she  came,  for  what  I  would  have 
done  without  her  I  cannot  imagine.  She  has  been 
everything  to  us  both  ;  it  has  been  the  crowning  ser- 
vice of  a  faithful  life,  and  if  she  had  never  done  another 
thing  for  us  we  ought  to  cherish  her  for  this. 

I  hope  my  precious  baby  is  a  good  boy.  Tell  him 
Mariima  and  Papa  often  talk  of  him  and  wish  for 
him,  and  dear  little  Robert  too.  I  wish  I  could  see 
you  all.  Do  send  us  any  news  from  our  friends.  With 
love  from  your  father  and  Mammj^  for  all,  I  am  your 
devoted  Mamma, 

Jean  Holcombe. 


OF  THE  LATE  ^YAR.  97 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"in  sickness  and  in  health,  to  love  and  to  cherish  till  death  do 

us  part." — Marriage  Ceremony. 

"  Jean,  how  are  you  going  to  stand  having  half  of  a 
man  for  your  husband?"  said  Captain  Holcombe  to  his 
wife,  as  she  reclined  beside  him. 

She  tried  to  repress  the  nervous  shudder  which  the 
thought  of  his  loss  always  gave  her,  and  answered 
quite  cheerfully,  kissing  him  : 

"  Half  of  this  husband  is  better  than  the  whole  of 
any  other.  I  am  too  thankful  to  have  you  at  all  to 
complain  of  anything." 

"  But  don't  you  think  you  will  be  very  proud  of  me 
when  you  see  me  hopping  round  on  my  crutches  like  a 
chicken  on  one  leg,  with  the  empty  leg  of  my  trowsers 
pinned  up  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Holcombe,  please !  "  she  said. 

"  There  is  one  good  thing  though,"  he  continued, 
laughing  (rather  ruefully  it  must  be  confessed) :  "  in 
the  desperately  hard  times  which  are  .coming  on  us  I 
can  economise  cloth.  I  won't  have  any  other  leg  at  all 
to  my  pants." 

She  put  her  hand  over  his  mouth.  '■'•  I  can't  bear 
to  hear  you  talk  that  way." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  kissing  her  hand  as  he  took  it  away, 

"  it  is  no  use  to  grieve  over  it  j  and  so  long  as  the  Good 

Father  spares  our  lives  and  leaves  me  so  much  to  bo 

thankful  for,  I  don't  intend  to.     Poor  George  now  has 

G 


98  WOMEN,  on  CURONICLES 

lost  more  than  I  have;  that  fine  boy,  cut  down  in  a 
flash  !     It  was  a  hard  trial ;  he  can't  get  over  it." 

*'  Poor  fellow  !  30U  saw  him  after  ho  fell,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  it  almost  broke  my  heart.  The  blow  had 
struck  so  suddenly  home  that  there  was  no  time  even  to 
break  the  expression  of  joy  on  his  face.  You  know  he 
was  killed  in  the  final  charge,  when  victory  was  certain, 
and  there  was  the  expression  of  triumphant  joy  on  his 
dead  face.  He  had  fallen  backward,  with  his  hand 
above  his  head,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  cheering 
with  his  arm  upraised  when  death  overtook  him." 

"  It  is  so  hard  to  associate  the  idea  of  death  with  any 
one  so  bright  and  joyous  as  he  was." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  John,  who  was  standing  by  me  as  we  un- 
covered his  face,  said  while  the  tears  streamed  from  his 
eyes:  '  Father,  he  went  straight  to  heaven,  I  know  he  did; 
it  was  only  last  night  as  we  lay  together  on  the  grass, 
on  our  way  down  here  from  "Winchester,  that  he  said : 
Johnny,  I  tell  you  I  have  been  thinking  of  all  Aunt 
Annie  said  to  me  before  I  left  "Winchester,  and  I  am  de- 
termined to  be  a  Christian;  these  are  ticklish  times 
for  us,  old  fellow,  and  I  have  been  trying  to  prepare 
for  our  fight  by  a  peace  to  my  soul ;  I  am  going  to  ask 
Him  to  take  care  of  me  before  we  go  to  battle,  or  to 
take  me  to  Himself.'  " 

"  Only  think,"  said  Jean,  "  what  a  change,  from  that 
scene  of  carnage,  confusion,  pain,  and  terror,  to  the  joys 
and  peace  of  heaven  !  It  almost  makes  one  feel  as  if 
they  would  have  liked  to  have  gone  with  him  to  have 
experienced  it." 

"  I  only  wish  Johnny  was  safe,"  said  !Mr.  Holcombe. 
*'  I  feel  far  more  anxiety  about  him  than  I  do  about  my- 
self; I  build  so  many  hopes  on  that  boy." 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  99 

"  Why  don't  5^011  try  and  get  him  a  post  appoint- 
ment ?  "  asked  his  wife  ;  ''  I  have  no  doubt  you  could." 

"  Kot  I,"  said  Mr.  Holeombe,  shaking  his  head.  "  It 
shall  never  be  said  of  me  that  I  sheltered  my  son  while 
other  pcoj^le  had  theirs  in  the  army.  Let  such  poor 
mutilated  men  as  myself  fill  the  bullet-proof  places;  we 
can  do  no  better.  But  he  owes  his  life,  if  need  be,  to 
his  country,  and  I  thank  God  that  he  is  willing  to  give 
it.  We  must  only  commit  him  to  our  Father  in  heaven ; 
He  can  protect  him  as  well  on  the  battle-field  as  in  the 
shelter  of  our  own  home." 

"  I  know  it  all,  but  it  is  hard  to  feel  it,"  said  Jean. 
•**  But  3'ou  are  not  in  earnest  about  filling  any  office 
now?" 

"  Certainly  I  am.  As  soon  as  I  get  well  enough,  I  shall 
go  to  Eichmond  and  go  into  service  in  one  of  the  De- 
partments, ^nd  put  my  substitute  in  the  army." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Holeombe!  I  thought  you  would  go  home 
after  this;  it  was  my  only  consolation,"  and  the  tears 
■sprang  to  her  e^^es. 

"  Ah,  little  woman,"  said  he,  trying  to  laugh  her  out 
•of  her  sad  mood,  "  you  are  not  a  heroine  by  any  means. 
In  fact  I  have  but  one  objection  to  you,  and  that  is  a 
serious  one:  you  are  too  English  ;  if  you  were  a  Yir- 
•ginian,  born  and  bred,  you  would  say  so  sweetly  'Go, 
my  dear  husband,  do  what  you  can,  since  you  are  not 
iat  for  service  in  the  field.' " 

"  Then  I  certainly  am  not  a  Yirginian,"  she  said,  an- 
■swcring  his  laugh.  "  I  think  you  have  earned  an  ex- 
emption from  service.  I  would  have  you  come  right 
home  and  stay  there  for  the  rest  of  the  war,  and  let  the 
anen  who  are  able  do  the  work." 

"I  shall  have  to  write  to  Mr.  Davis  that  you  arc  de- 
moralising his  men." 


100  woMJ'Jx,  on  cinwxicLES 

"Tiying  to,  I  confess,  but  not  succeeding,"  was  the 
answer. 

"No  ;  reserve  your  eloquence  for  something  in  which 
there  is  a  shadow  of  hope  of  success,  ^Jistress  Jean. 
I  shall  stay  in  the  army  as  long  as  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy wants  me,  or  as  long  as  there  is  enough  of  me 
left  to  work  for  her.  But  I  do  believe,  Jean,"  he  added, 
turning  his  teasing  face  to  her,  "you  would  be  glad  of 
the  loss  of  my  leg  if  it  only  kept  me  out  of  the  army." 

"JSTotglad,"  said  she;  "of  course  I  never  could  be 
that,  but  reconciled  to  anything  which  would  keep  you 
with  me  all  of  the  time." 

"  Miss  Jean,"  said  Mammy,  2:)utting  her  head  in  at  the 
door,  "de  karidge  is  comin',  wid  all  de  childern  in  it." 

In  another  minute  the  room  was  a  scene  of  joyous 
welcome.  Margie,  Mary,  Eddy,  and  the  baby,  made  up 
the  sum  of  the  arrivals. 

"Why,  Mary,  what  is  the  matter?"  said  Mr.  Hol- 
combe  when  Mary's  embrace  of  him  refused  to  come 
to  an  end ;  trying  to  lift  up  her  face — "  crj^ing,  I  declare ! 
Don't  want  piece  of  a  Papa  !  Jean  there  pays  me  the 
handsome  compliment  of  saying  that  half  of  me  is  better 
than  all  of  anybody  else ;  but  she  is  foolish,  you  know." 
Then  he  added  more  seriously  :  "  Come,  little  daughter, 
don't  be  ungrateful !  Cod  has  been  very  good  to  us  all; 
and  don't  grieve  over  my  slight  loss,  when  through  the 
wdiole  country  '  Rachel  is  wee2:)ing  for  her  children,  and 
refuses  to  be  comforted  because  they  are  not.' " 

"  I  know  all  that,  Papa,"  said  Mary,  trying  to  stop 
the  tears  which  would  come  in  spite  of  her,  "but  I 
never  realised  it  until  I  saw  you  lying  here,  and  your 
one  leg  looking  so  dreadfully  narrow  there  in  the  bed. 
It  seems  so  awful  to  think  of  your  having  gone  through 
such  suffering  and  none  of  ns  able  to  help  you.'* 


OF  THE  LATE   WAU.  101 

"  Well,"  said  Margaret,  ''of  course  it  is  dreadful ;  but 
for  my  part  I  think  avc  all  ought  to  glory  in  such  a  loss. 
I  shall  always  look  upon  Papa  as  a  hero  with  his  one 
leg.     It  is  like  the  old  Revolutionary  times." 

"Unfortunately,  Margie,  there  will  be  so  many  he- 
rocs  that  no  one  will  be  distinguished  by  such  a  badge 
of  honor,"  said  Mr.  Ilolcombe.  Then  turning  to  Eddy, 
who  stood  quiet  and  awe-struck  beside  his  mamma : 

"AVell,  little  man,  what  do  you  think  about  it  all? 
Do  you  want  to  be  a  soldier?" 

But  Master  Eddy's  enthusiasm  was  quite  quenched 
by  the  stern  reality.  lie  shook  his  head,  and  said 
gravely  : 

"  Mo'd  radder  be  a  ambulanch-driver." 

"But  the  Yankees  sometimes  shoot  ambulance, 
drivers." 

''Den  me  will  tay  home  wid  Mamma  and  feed  de 
chickens." 

"You  have  taught  him  well  at  any  rate,  Jean,"  said 
Mr.  Ilolcombe  laughing ;  "  he  is  his  mamma's  own  boy." 

"  Why,  Mammy,"  said  Margaret,  turning  to  the  old 
woman  who  stood  behind  her  chair  with  the  baby  clasped 
in  her  arms,  "  you  don't  show  the  effects  of  nursing  as 
much  as  Mamma.     You  look  as  blooming  as  a  rose." 

"He  I  he!  he!  Miss  Margit,  it  mus'  be  a  monsus 
black  rose  I  blooms  like.  I  leaves  it' to  de  white  ladies 
to  look  pretty  like  de  flowers.  Nigger  ain't  like  nothin' 
but  one  big  black  hollyhock—and  dat'smost  too  pretty 
for  him.     How  is  all  de  people  at  home  ?  " 

"All  pretty  well.  Aunt  Ailsie  says  she  is  'still pain- 
ful,' but  you  know  she  always  is." 

"Oh  yes,  ma'am!  no  need  to  be  oneasy 'bout  her. 
Ailsie  is  always  been  a  kind  o'  fool  nigger  anyhow.     I 


102  WOM£y,   OB  CHRONICLES 

been  know'd  her  now  sense  we  was  gals  togedder,  en  sho 
never  had  no  sense,  no  way  you  fix  it." 

"She  is  a  good  creature  though/'  said  Mrs.  Hoi- 
combe. 

"Oh  yes,  madam,"  said  the  censor,  charitably,  "sho 
don't  mean  no  harm  'tall;  but  she's  jist  a  fool,  and  she 
can't  help  dat,  3'ou  knows." 

"  Yes,"  said  31r.  Holcombe,  "  I  remember  hearing  mj 
mother  talking  to  Ailsie  one  day  and  saying :  '  Yes,  Aunt 
Ailsie,  you  are  just  the  kind  of  negro  1  like;  one  of 
your  good  old-time  fool  negroes,  with  plenty  of  sense  to 
do  what  you  are  told,  and  no  more.' " 

"Yes,"  said  Mammy,  sententiously,  "old  Miss  al- 
ways sot  a  great  deal  of  store  by  Ailsie  ;  and  she  is  a 
good  kind  o'  creater,  tho'  she  is  a  fool.'' 

♦*That  you  insist  upon,  Mammy,"  said  Mary,  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Uv  corse,  uv  corse,"  said  Mammy.  "  Bless  de  bab}^," 
she  added,  hugging  the  little  nursling  closer  to  her, 
"he  is  a  raal  Holcombe,  he  is.  Bid  you  ever  see  sich 
splendid  legs?  De  Holcombes  always  had  splendid 
legs." 

"Stop,  Mammy,  you  are  treading  on  m}^  toes  now," 
said  the  invalid  ruefully;  "you  forget  you  must  not 
talk  about  legs  where  I  am." 

"I  beg  you  pardon,  Mars  Xed,"  said  the  old  woman, 
bowinfiT  low  before  him;  "I  did  cum  monsus  near  fur- 
gittin'  you  a  miunit.  But  thank  the  Good  Marster  above 
he  is  provide  you  wid  plenty  nv  young  legs  to  run  er- 
rants  far  you  before  He  tuck  yourn  away." 

"Mammy,  I  want  to  take  you  home  with  us  this 
evening,"  said  Margaret  Murray;  "Uncle  Bob  looks 
very  disconsolate  without  j^ou." 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  103 

*'  Uv  corse,  Miss  Margit,  it  is  jist  as  do  white  folks  say, 
but  I  would  prafei-  stayia  toll  your  father  gits  on  his 
feet  agin." 

"Foot,  Mammy,  foot!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ilolcombe,  ia 
mock  indignation. 

"I  beg  you  pardon,  marster ;  I  like  to  a  forgit  agin," 
said  Mammy,  repeating  and  increasing  her  salaam. 

"Well, Mammy," said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  "of  course  I 
shall  miss  you  dreadfully,  but  I  really  think  I  must 
spare  you."  It  won't  do  to  run  any  risk  with  you,  old 
ladv.  You  must  be  taken  care  of,  and  besides  Uncle 
Bob  ought  to  be  looked  after." 

"  Is  to  Bob,  Misstis,"  said  Mammy,  with  a  profound 
disregard  of  her  matrimonial  relations,  "  I  don't  keer 
ncthin'  it  all  'bout  him.  Ho  kin  git  on  jist  as  well 
widout  me.  But  cf  you  don't  want  me  to  stay,  I  kin 
go." 

"  Of  course  I  want  you,  but  I  feel  that  it  would  be 
best  for  you  to  go,  so  get  your  things  ready." 


104  WOMEN,  Oil   CUUONICLES 


CHAPTEE  X. 

"  No  tears 
Dim  the  sweet  look  that  Nature  wears." — Longfellow. 

Again  does  our  story  carry  us  to  the  old  town  of 
Winchester,  in  the  Yallcy  of  Yirginia.  Our  farewell 
greeting  was  given  amid  the  bustle  and  excitement  of 
the  hasty  evacuation  of  the  place  prior  to  the  battle  of 
Manassas,  and  we  left  our  friends  in  all  the  dismay 
consequent  upon  the  expected  entry  of  the  Federal 
forces.  To  those  who  are  at  all  familiar  with  the  his- 
tory of  the  times,  it  will  be  suj)erfiuous  to  tell  of  the 
rapid  changes  which  prevented  this  invasion,  and  left 
the  Yalley  for  a  time  free  from  the  presence  of  either 
army,  transferring  the  scene  of  war  to  the  other  side  of 
the  Blue  Eidge  Mountains. 

Since  then  the  earth  has  made  three-quarters  of  its  cir- 
cuit around  the  sun.  Summer  burnt  itself  away  ;  and 
Autumn,  "rising  like  a  phoenix  from  its  ashes,"  built 
her  throne  with  gaudy  splendor,  reigned  her  brief 
space,  and  then,  submissive  to  the  law  of  Nature,  stood 
aside  respectfully  to  permit  the  entrance  of  grim, 
hoary-headed  old  Winter,  who  came  roaring  down  from 
his  mountain  fastnesses,  and  shook  the  earth  with  the 
breath  of  his  nostrils,  announcing  with  his  whirlwind 
voice  that  man  shall  no  longer  seek  his  happiness 
abroad  in  field  and  wood  and  by  the  rippling  stream, 
but  under  his  despotic  but  kindly  sway  shall  learn  the 
joys  of  home.     So  he  lays  his  hand  upon  the  tender 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR  105 

verdure  of  meadow  and  wood,  and  shrinking,  it  withers 
silently.  He  but  touches  with  his  icy  fingers  the 
dancing,  singing  rivulet,  and  mutely  it  congeals, 
turning  up  its  pallid  face  in  dumb  appeal.  But  by  way 
of  compensation  the  old  king  spreads  over  the  desola- 
tion a  soft  white  mantle,  and  hangs  from  tree,  shrub, 
and  house-top  his  jeweled  fringe;  while  within  the 
house  he  throws  on  the  hickory  logs  and  lights  his  Christ- 
mas fires,  and  as  the  flame  goes  crackling  and  roar- 
ing up  the  chimney  he  laughs  his  merry  ha!  ha!  and 
young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and  children,  join  in 
the  mad  mirth,  acknowledging,  while  tossing  the  white 
snow-ball,  engaging  in  the  merry  game,  dancing  in  the 
ruddy  firelight,  or  welcoming  joyous  Christmas,  that 
Winter's  stern,  harsh,  despotic  manner  but  covers 
a  warm,  genial,  loving  heart. 

Winter  is  a  true  sovereign  and  loves  the  regal  sway ; 
nor  does  he  surrender  it  without  a  struggle.  But  the 
greatest  danger  is  that  which  makes  gradual  ap- 
proaches and  gains  the  ground  before  its  presence  is 
suspected.  So  Spring  comes  with  its  revivifying  glance, 
and  silently  breaks  the  bond  which  has  held  rivulet 
and  stream  so  long  torpid ;  breathes  upon  meadow  and 
wood,  and  life  stirs  within  them,  and  old  Winter  sud- 
denly awakens  to  the  fact  that  his  throne  is  in  danger. 
But,  alas !  he  has  grown,  too  feeble  for  resistance,  and 
retreats  before  the  life  and  brightness  which  is  every- 
where felt.  But  growling  out  his  impotent  rage,  he 
"  sends  back  from  his  flying  footsteps  showers  of%now 
and  hail,"  which,  ungrateful  time-servers  as  they  are, 
go  over  to  the  enemy,  and  tempered  by  the  mild  beams 
of  the  new  sovereign,  dance  in  the  flowing  stream  and 
brighten  the  springing  grass;  and  at  last  the  old  kinp;, 


lOG  Vy'OMBX,  Oil  CiniOXICLES 

"with  all  of  his  obstinacy  melted  out  of  him  by  the 
warm  arguments  of  the  sun,  Bubmits  to  the  inevitable 
with  the  best  grace  he  may,  and  sets  the  seal  to  his  ab- 
dication b}^  retiring  from  the  contest. 

Winchester,  as  a  town,  is  not  so  pleasant  to  look 
upon  as  when  we  saw  it  last.  The  people  are  too 
busy  wielding  the  sword  to  wield  the  paint-brush  ;  and 
the  houses  which  for  many  years  past,  like  a  decayed 
belle,  have  only  been  able  to  renew  their  youth 
through  the  influence  of  artificial  means,  have  now 
sunk  into  Shakspeare's  seventh  age,  "  sans  every- 
thing," with  a  decidedly  dingy  look  of  despondency 
over  their  uncomely  and  shabby  appearance. 

Winchester  for  several  months  has  been  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Confederate  army  j  and  the  time  has 
been  passed  in  busy  inactivity,  each  army  striving  to 
out-manoeuvre  the  other,  watching  like  a  lion  making 
ready  to  leap  upon  the  least  appearance  of  unwariness 
on  the  part  of  its  opposer.  One  day  the  entire  Con- 
federate force  under  General  Jackson  is  ordered  forward 
towards  Bunker's  Hill,  and  expectation  sits  breathless, 
waiting  for  the  first  gun  which  might  announce  the 
opening  of  the  battle  which  seems  to  be  imminent ;  but 
the  next  move  is  a  retreat  to  Strausburg,  twenty  miles 
further  down  the  Valley,  and  with  equal  failure  of  results. 
Once  it  seemed  at  last  as  if  a  serious  move  must  be  in 
contemplation,  as  the  men  were  ordered  to  prepare 
four  days'  rations,  and  be  ready  to  march  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  The  weather  had  been  bright  and 
clear  for  some  weeks,  though  still  very  cold ;  and 
General  Jackson,  with  what  persons  had  learned  to 
designate  as  his  war-look,  started  off  at  the  head  of 
his  forces  towards  Bath.     The  very  next  day  the  fine 


OF  THE  LATE  WAE.  107 

^Yeathor  broke  up  in  a  miserable  soaking  rain,  ending  in 
sleet,  snow,  and  sullen  skies,  with  no  promise  of  the 
sun  shining  behind  the  clouds.  Their  travel  over  the 
mountains,  which  in  good  weather  would  have  been 
delightful  after  their  inactive  winter,  was  rendered  de- 
plorably fatiguing.  Men  gave  out  and  lay  down  by 
the  roadside  j  horses  slipping  in  the  slimy  mud  could 
scarcely  regain  their  lost  footing;  and  the  journey  pro- 
longed so  much  beyond  its  prescribed  limits,  provi- 
sions for  man  and  beast  became  exhausted,  and  the 
sufferings  were  terrible.  Many  soldiers  at  the  end  of 
the  war,  in  talking  over  their  hardships,  spoke  of  this 
as  the  most  painful  march  they  had  ever  had.  Of 
course  the  whole  expedition  was  a  failure,  as  they  ar- 
rived at  Bath  too  late  to  accomplish  anything,  and  the 
army  returned  to  Winchester,  dispirited  and  murmur- 
ing at  what  seemed  to  them  a  useless  and  unwise  ex- 
penditure of  their  strength.  Sickness  also  increased 
amongst  them,  and  but  for  the  unsurpassed  energy  and 
perseverance  of  their  General,  despondency  would 
have  taken  indissoluble  bold  of  his  troops ;  but  with 
his  unswerving  pursuit  of  duty,  his  never-failing  faith 
in  God,  and  his  indomitable  courage  and  energy,  he  be- 
fore long  managed  to  infuse  some  of  his  spirit  into 
them,  and  the  enthusiasm  and  constancy  of  the  mass 
of  the  peojole  also  having  its  effect,  spring  opened 
with  more  cheerful  aspects  and  hopes  than  had  been  at 
first  anticipated. 

Our  old  friends  on  Fort  Hill  were  as  indefatigable  as 
ever,  and  encouraged  by  former  escapes,  declared  their 
renewed  conviction  that  the  Yankees  would  never 
enter  AYinchcstcr  during  the  war  — 

"  Mistaken  souls,  that  dream  of  heaven 
And  make  their  empty  boast." 


108  WOMEJSr,  OR  CHRONICLES 

*'  So  you  enjoyed  the  trip  to  Bath,  Mr.  Hautmau  ?  ^ 
said  Ellen  Eandolph  to  her  young  Gferman  friend,  who 
had  recovered  from  his  wound  in  time  to  join  the  array 
at  Winchester. 

"Oh,  so  much,  Meis  Eandof!  If  de  w^ar  be  ofer,  I 
vill  go  up  dare,  in  de  rain  and  ice  ncx'  winter,  for  de 
amusement ;  but  it  vill  not  be  so  pleasan'  vidout  my 
artilry." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Ellen.     '<•  Do  you  ride  on  the  guns  ?" 

"  l^oi  so  mouch,"  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  laugh- 
ing; "  de  gun  do  not  carry  de  men,  but  de  men  carry 
de  gun,  en  dat  is  vat  makes  it  so  mouch  pleasant. 
Yat  you  think,  Mr.  Elliot  ?  "  turning  to  a  young  man 
in  artillery  uniform. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Elliot,  *'  I  hope  never  to  have  such 
a  march  again.  I  will  not  certainly  go  with  you  on 
your  party  of  pleasure  next  winter.  The  infantry 
had  a  bad  enough  time,  but  it  was  a  bed  of  roses  to 
the  artillery,  because  as  much  stronger  as  a  horse  is 
than  a  man  so  much  more  does  he  suffer  with  hunger, 
and  as  much  more  as  a  horse  weighs  than  a  man  so 
much  heavier  is  he  to  get  out  of  the  mud." 

''You  see  Meester  Elliot  have  one  mafematical  mine, 
Meis  Eandof  J  en  vat  he  say  is  var  true.  It  made  me 
]af,  I  was  so  mad  evry  day  to  see  de  Infants  down  by 
de  roadside,  so  tired  he  could  not  get  up,  fen  one  minnit 
I  had  de  gun  on  my  shoulder  gettin'  it  out  uf  de  mud, 
en  the  nex  de  horse  on  my  back,  takin'  him  up  de  hill. 
He  slip  down  six  times  already  ;  but  de  horse  is  one 
noble  animal,  I  tells  you.  Fy,  my  horse  live  for  two 
days  on  de  back  of  one  army-vaggin  what  was  pefore 
him.  Ever  now  and  den  I  hear  sumfin  crashin'  away, 
en  I  look  en  anoder  piece  ef  board  gone.     But  I  say 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  109 

nuffin,  en  presently  I  see  daylight  trou.  But  I  say 
miffiu  till  de  driver  turn  roun'  en  see  me  en  my  horse. 
Den  he  var  mad  and  curse  at  me  var  hard,  en  say, 
*  Put  for  you  let  your  horse  eat  my  vaggin  for  ? '  En 
I  take  ofP  my  hat  en  bow  to  her  var  polite  en  say, 
'  My  good  man,  ef  you  vant  not  my  horse  to  eat  your 
vaggin  you  mus'  keep  out  ob  de  way  ;  'cause  my  horse 
is  var  hungry,  en  like  your  vaggin  var  much.'  " 

"  Well,  what  did  you  do  when  the  wagon  gave  out  ?  " 
said  Ellen,  laughing  heartily. 

"  I>o  J  ^7  I  go  to  de  ordnance-officer,  en  ask  him 
var  respectful  to  gif  me  order  fur  sum  cartridge-box. 
'  Pat  you  vant  vid  cartridge-box  ?  '  he  say,  var  loud. 
'  To  feed  my  horse  on,'  I  say.  'He  haf  eat  de  back 
out  of  a  vaggin,  en  he  vill  starf  if  he  no  get  sum  cart- 
ridge-box or  sumfin  else.'  You  could  hear  him  laf  most 
in  Winchester." 

"And  then  not  to  accomplish  anything  after  all  that 
suffering,"  said  Ellen,  wiping  away  the  tears,  not  of 
sorrow,  but  of  laughter  from  her  eyes  —"  I  declare  it 
was  too  bad  !  " 

"Fortune  of  war.  Miss  Eandolph,"  said  Mr.  Elliot; 
"  we'll  make  it  up  next  time.  Old  Jack  won't  flxil 
twice  hand-running ;  he  knows  what  he  is  about." 

"He  know  fut  his  men  is  'bout  too,"  said  Mr.  Haut- 
man.  "  Ye  is  ordered  to  cook  two  day  rations  'gain 
to-day.     Yill  he  try  de  Baf  road,  I  vonder  ?  " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dallam!  how  d'ye  do?"  said  Miss  Ean- 
dolph, rising  to  greet  that  gentleman,  who  lounged 
into  the  room  in  his  most  nonchalant  style.  « I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  have  survived  your  trip  to  Bath. 
These  gentlemen  have  just  been  giving  in  their  expe- 


110  WOMEN,  OR   CURONICLES 

"  That  any  one  survived  is  a  wonder,  I  assure  you, 
Miss  Eaudoli)h,"  said  ]\Ir.  Dallam;  "it  has  killed  more 
men  than  half  a  dozen  battles.  The  whole  army  is 
barking  and  wheezing  more  like  an  army  of  dogs  than 
men.  It  is  particularly  unfortunate  too,  as  I  really 
think  we  are  going  to  have  a  fight." 

"A  fight!  when?  where?"  exclaimed  the  whole 
party  eagerly. 

"  Here,  and  soon,"  was  the  answer.  "  The  Yankees 
are  advancing  ;  indeed  they  are  not  more  than  five 
miles  off  now,  and  the  whole  army  are  ordered  out  to 
this  end  of  the  town.  I  wonder  you  have  not  heard 
the  noise.  I^ow,  Miss  Eandolph,  you  will  have  to 
bring  your  whole  stock  of  courage  to  bear  upon  this 
emergency ;  the  fight  will  be  just  around  you  here." 

"I  shan't  believe  the  report  of  a  fight  until  I  hear 
the  guns,"  said  Ellen.  "I  have  got  up  the  requisite 
amount  of  agitation  so  often  that  my  tears  are  ex- 
hausted." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  I  thought  you  ladies  had  a  supply 
of  that  commodity  ready  always  at  a  moment's  warn- 
ing, or  even  without  a  moment's  warning." 

The  two  artillerymen  had  left  the  house  on  the  first 
report  of  the  expected  fight,  and  attracted  by  the  in- 
creasing noise  in  the  streets,  Ellen  and  Mr.  Dallam  ad- 
journed to  the  front  porch  to  witness  the  scene. 

It  was  full  of  animation ;  the  prospect  of  a  fight 
having  acted  as  a  powerful  stimulus  to  the  men,  who, 
to  use  their  own  expression,  had  been  "  spiling  "  for  it 
for  so  many  months.  But  in  spite  of  Ellen  Eandolph's 
assertion  made  a  minute  ago,  that  her  tears  were  ex- 
hausted, there  Avas  a  suspicious  dew  in  her  eyes  at  the 
sight  of  the  crowd  of  eager  faces,  all  hurrying  out  to 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  HI 

possible,  and  even  probable  death.  Their  shouts  and 
laughter  only  added  to  her  sadness,  as  she  could  not 
bear  the  idea  of  their  meeting  death  in  such  mood. 
It  was  a  relief  to  her  when  her  companion  broke  the 
silence  by  a  commonplace  every-day  question. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Eose  Hill  ?  " 

*'  Captain  Murray  was  here  with  a  letter  from  his 
wife  to-day.  Uncle  :N'ed  and  Aunt  Jean  have  reached 
home.     Of  course  there  is  great  rejoicing." 

"Did  she  say  anything  about  her  — her  sister?" 
asked  Mr.  Dallam. 

"  Only  tha.t  she  was  very  well,  but  not  in  her  usual 
spirits.  But  you  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  me  all  about 
her," 

'•  I  have  not  heard  lately  ;  but  of  course  her  anxiety 
about  me  would  keep  her  in  bad  spirits,  poor  little 
girl!  I  hope  I  may  be  spared  for  her  sake."  He 
looked  so  handsome  and  so  provokingly  confident 
that  it  irritated  the  young  lady. 

"A  little  for  your  own  too,  I  expect,"  said  she  tartly. 
"You  gentlemen  need  not  flatter  yourselves  ever  on 
the  constancy  of  our  sex.  I  have  no  doubt  Mary 
would  console  herself  very  quickly  for  your  loss,  if  she 
does  not  tire  of  you  at  any  rate." 

"i^ot  she,"  was  the  quiet  answer  ;  "  her  chief  charm 
to  me  is  her  fresh  trustfulness.  I  know  I  am  not  half 
her  fancy  paints  me  ;  and  yet  I  would  not  undeceive 
her  for  worlds.  I  would  feel  the  utmost  confidence  of 
her  approval  in  any  step  I  thought  best  to  take,  be- 
cause she  really  does  think  everything  I  do  right." 

"  I  think  it  a  great  pity  for  any  one  to  bo  so  blinded 
by  their  affection,"  said  Ellen  ;  "because  as  no  one,  not 
even  yourself,  Mr.  Dallam,  is  perfect,  the  disappoint- 


112  WOMEy,   on  CUROXICLES 

raent  is  sure  to  come.  I  would  rather  feel  that  a 
friend  loved  me  knowing  my  faults,  and  in  spite  of 
them,  than  through  self-deception  and  ignorance  placed 
me  on  a  pedestal  where  I  did  not  rightly  belong." 

"  But  I  think  she  is  always  going  to  be  blindly  de- 
voted," said  Mr.  Dallam. 

"Don't  you  believe  it ;  Mary  has  too  much  sense  for 
that.  She  is  very  young,  and  very  undeveloped  for  her 
age;  but  there  is  a  fund  of  firmness  and  character 
under  this  gentle  yielding  temper  which  will  show 
itself  some  day  and  surprise  you.  Let  her  once  find 
out  that  you  can  do  wrong,  and  her  idol  will  be  shat- 
tered." 

Mr.  Dallam  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  smiled  with 
the  calm  consciousness  of  superior  wisdom  as  he  said : 

"  I  flatter  myself  I  know  the  young  lady  better  than 
you  do." 

"  Better  than  I  do,  indeed !  "  exclaimed  Ellen,  indig- 
nantly— "  you  the  acquaintance  of  a  day  comparatively, 
and  I  of  a  life-time  !  And  had  you  known  her  as  long 
you  would  not  know  her  so  well.  It  is  impossible  un- 
til you  are  married  to  her.  But  look,  is  not  that  Gen- 
eral Jackson?  Yes  it  is,  and  going  to  the  front  too. 
That  is  what  they  call  his  war  look  ?  well,  it  does  change 
him.     Good  evening.  General !  ^' 

"  Ah,  Miss  Eandolph,  good  evening,"  said  the  Gen- 
eral, stopping  at  the  door  and  extending  his  hand. 
"  Listening  for  the  guns  ?     Not  frightened,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  not  very  much,  because  I  don't  believe  you  are 
going  to  fight." 

"Looks  like  it  now,"  said  he  in  his  quick  way;  "en- 
emy very  near." 

"  Then  I  am  frightened,"  said  Ellen. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  113 

"JS^o  occasion,"  he  said;  "only  pray  for  us  —  that  is 
what  the  ladies  can  do.  Eemembcr  who  holds  the  re- 
sult in  His  hands." 

"But  oh,  General,  I  am  so  afraid  the  men  will  run." 

"  Oh  no,  I  think  not ;  but  if  they  do,  I  will  put  the 
ladies  in  their  places." 

"  They  will  certainly  run  the  first  fire,"  said  Ellen, 
laughing. 

"JS"ever!  "  said  the  General  earnestly.  "You  do  your 
sex  injustice;  a  woman  never  deserts  the  post  of  duty. 
Mrs.  Mason,  how  are  you  ?  You  come  as  a  contradiction 
of  Miss  Eandolph's  w^ords." 

"Are  you  going  to  fight,  General?"  asked  Mrs. 
Mason,  who  joined  them. 

"  I  think  so.  I  am  ready  for  them ;  and  if  you  ladies 
will  help  us  with  your  prayers,  I  feel  confident  of 
success." 

"May  the  God  of  battles  go  with  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Mason  fervently ;  "  through  Him  you  will  conquer." 

"  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  "  said  he,  wringing  her 
hand ;  "  God  bless  you  !  "  and  he  was  gone,  galloping 
at  break-neck  speed  up  the  road  along  which  the 
troops  were  now  hurrying. 

But  again  were  their  hopes  disappointed,  as  the 
night  fell  before  the  armies  closed  in  battle.  The  ex- 
citement was  intense,  as  it  was  expected  that  the  fight- 
ing would  begin  at  daylight  on  the  morrow.  During 
the  evening  Mr.  AYilliams  and  Captain  Murray  came 
in,  and  proposed  that  they  should  adjourn  to  the  top 
of  the  house  and  look  at  the  camp-fires,  which  they 
did. 

It  was  a  beautiful  night.  The  moon  was  at  its  full, 
and  moved  across  the  cloudless  sky  with  queenly  ma- 


lU  wo JI£\Y,  or.   CHRONICLES 

jesty,  turning  her  calm  face  downwards  towards  the 
passion-driven  earth,  as  if  in  mild  reproof.  Far  off, 
looking  like  fire-flies  in  the  distance,  gleamed  the  camp- 
fires  of  the  enemy. 

"  Can  that  be  a  camp-fire  round  there?  "  said  Captain 
Murray,  pointing  to  the  west. 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  said  'Mv.  Williams. 

"  It  should  be  seen  to  at  once/'  said  Captain  Murray-, 
"as  in  that  case  they  are  trying  to  flank  us,  and  if 
we  should  be  overwhelmed  we  will  have  no  way  of 
escape,"  and  off  he  hurried  to  G-eneral  Jackson's 
headquarters. 

The  information  was  startling ;  and  the  General,  un- 
willing to  trust  any  one  to  discover  its  truth  but  him- 
self, started  out  with  General  Ashby.  They  found  it 
even  so ;  their  retreat  was  cut  off  except  upon  one 
narrow  road,  the  Valley  turnpike. 

At  ten  o'clock  at  night  the  evacuation  of  the  town 
was  ordered.  The  tenure  of  the  place  had  been  for 
some  time  so  uncertain  that  all  commissary  stores  had 
been  sent  up  the  Yalley,  so  that  the  move  from  the 
town  was  an  easy  matter  The  sudden  change  from 
buoyant  enthusiasm  to  blank  despondency  for  a  time 
overcame  the  courage  of  the  people.  There  was  no 
hope  of  escape  this  time  ;  "the  die  was  cast." 

General  Jackson  had  been  staying  at  the  house  of  a 
Presbyterian  minister,  a  personal  friend.  Sending  for 
the  gentleman  and  his  wife,  they  found  him  striding 
up  and  down  the  parlor,  greatly  agitated. 

''  Oh,  General,"  said  the  lady,  in  tears,  ''  what  is  it  I 
hear  ?     You  are  not  going  to  leave  us  ?  " 

''  I  am  afraid  so,  madam,  I  am  afraid  so,"  and  then 
he  told  the  circumstances  which  compelled  the  move. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  115 

'•'I  had  hopod  God  would  have  permitted  mo  to 
stay  to  guard  you  deiir  people^  But  He  doe.s  not  re- 
quire mo  ;  Ho  will  take  care  of  you.  I  do  not  think 
you  have  anything  of  danger  to  apprehend  ;  only  be 
quiet  and  prudent.  I  need  not  say  be  ftiithful ;  but  re- 
member you  are  non-combatants,  and  have  only  to 
keep  quiet." 

All  night  were  farewells  and  tears  floating  through 
the  town.  By  twelve  o'clock  most  of  the  troops  were 
on  their  sad  march,  leaving  the  hearthstones  which 
had  extended  hospitable  welcome  to  them  unguarded. 

Early  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Mason,  Mrs.  Eandolph, 
and  Ellen  stood  upon  the  pavement  in  front  of  the  house, 
looking  sadly  upon  the  quiet  streets  which  but  a  few 
hours  before  had  been  alive  with  troops,  and  their  gaze 
turned  anxiously  towards  the  road  by  which  they  knew 
the  enemy  must  approach.  They  were  startled  to  see 
four  horsemen  with  white  bands  on  their  hats  and 
arms,  and  were  about  to  take  flight  into  the  house,- 
thinking  it  their  expected  though  unwelcome  visitants, 
when  Ellen,  clearer-sighted  than  the  rest,  exclaimed 
joyfully  : 

"  It  is  General  Ashby !     It  is  our  own  men    " 

In  the  joyful  surprise  they  even  imagined  that  the 
order  for  retreat  had  been  reversed.  ^But  they  were 
soon  undeceived  by  the  General  himself,  who  told 
them  that  he  with  these  three  men  would  remain  to 
see  the  Federal  army  enter  the  town,  and  would  then 
follow  the  troops  and  take  the  last  I'eport  to  General 
Jackson. 

"And  tell  him  —  and  our  friends,"  sobbed  Ellen,  with 
her  face  buried  in  her  handkerchief,  "  that  —  we  —  are 
bearing  —  it  as  cheerfully  —  as  we  can," 


l:iG  WOMBS,   oil   CUROXICLES 

A  slight  smile  broke  the  sad  stillness  of  General 
Ashby's  flice,  while  3Irs.  Mason  said,  smiling  through 
her  own  tears  : 

'<  General  Ashby  can  more  appropriately  say  bearing 
it  tearfully,  Ellen." 

And  now  the  last  Confederates  were  gone,  and 
with  the  earliest  beams  of  the  morning  sun  there  ap- 
peared what  at  first  sight  looked  like  a  heavy  dew  on 
the  distant  grass.  It  was  the  light  gilding  the  bur- 
nished arms  of  the  enemy,  and  soon  each  blade  of 
grass  seemed  to  bring  forth  a  man,  spreading  and 
gathering  from  all  directions  until  the  face  of  the 
country  looking  to  the  north  was  black  with  them. 
So  numerous  were  they  that  thankful  voices  went 
up  to  Heaven  that  the  discovery  of  the  night  be- 
fore had  been  made  in  time  to  prevent  the  Confederates 
hazarding  a  battle  with  such  terrible  disparity  of  num- 
bers. 

Looking  down  the  street  in  one  direction  General 
Ashby  could  be  seen  with  his  three  attendants,  his 
eagle  eye  fixed  upon  the  approaching  enemy ;  and 
when  the  advance  regiment  drew  up  in  front  of  Mr. 
Eandolph's  house  and  gave  three  cheers  for  the  Union, 
they  were  answered  from  the  street  below,  and  turning, 
they  saw  those  gallant  figures  waving  their  caps  over 
their  heads,  and  loyal  to  the  last,  hurled  back  their 
three  cheers  for  the  Southern  Confederacy.  Their 
duty  was  done,  and  putting  spurs  to  their  horses  they 
were  in  a  moment  out  of  sight. 

Winchester  had  fallen ! 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  117 


CHAPTER  XI. 

•'  The  firste  vertue,  sone,  if  thou  wilt  lere, 
Is  to  restraine  and  kepen  wel  thy  tong."  —  Chaucer. 

For  some  days  after  the  occupation  of  Winchester  by 
the  Federal  forces,  the  non-combatants  who  were  left 
in  the  town  remained  quietly  in  their  houses.  The 
entire  place  bore  a  dreadfully  gloomy  and  deserted  ap- 
pearance, in  spite  of  the  large  army,  under  Generals 
Shields  and  Banks,  which  occupied  it.  The  houses  were 
all  closed  from  garret  to  cellar,  and  none  came  in  or 
went  out  of  the  doors.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  ne- 
groes, who  everywhere  openly  affiliated  with  the  Yan- 
kees, tlie  occupying  army  might  have  doubted  whether 
they  had  not  taken  possession  of  mere  brick  and  mortar ; 
but  after  a  few  days,  finding  that  none  of  the  horrors 
they  had  feared  came  upon  them,  and  recognising  the 
absolute  necessity  for  intercourse  with  the  outside  world 
for  the  purpose  of  procuring  the  mere  requisites  of  life, 
the  citizens  began  slowly  to  resume,  as  far  as  they 
might,  the  daily  routine  of  their  lives.-  Timid  figures 
might  be  seen  at  first  issuing  from  the  front  doors  and 
meeting  other  stealthy  figures  upon  the  street,  even  from 
such  meagre  stores  gathering  courage  in  companion- 
ship. There  were  also  actual  temptations  presented  to 
win  them. from  the  strict  seclusion  they  had  intended. 
Federal  sutlers  filled  the  stores  with  tempting  goods,  and 
to  those  who  had  so  long  been  debarred  the  privilege  of 
traffic  it  was  no  slight  attraction.     Eager  housewives 


118  ]vom£:n,  on  curoxicles 

might  be  seen  supplying  the  severely  felt  wants  of  their 
households.  Bright  young  faces  grew  brighter  at  the 
unwonted  sight  of'  a  love  of  a  bonnet"  or  a  beautiful 
dress,  "and  so  cheajpy  If  woman  has  a  weakness  in- 
eradicable, it  is  a  love  of  shopping  and  delight  in  a 
bargain  ;  and  the  times,  by  forcing  them  upon  short 
rations  of  these  occupations  and  attachments,  had  but 
whetted  the  mental  appetite,  and  in  a  little  time  the 
streets  were  thronged  with  eager  purchasers.  All  of 
their  small  stores  of  specie  were  exchanged  for  green- 
backs ;  treasured  gold  dollars,  or  even  silver  quarters, 
which,  like  Jenny's  "  half  a  saxpence,"  had  been  kept 
as  relics  or  souvenirs,  were  laid  on  the  altar,  with  all 
their  rich  stores  of  loving  associations.  Even  pieces  of 
jewelry  and  silver  were  sacrificed  to  this  new  fever ; 
and  though  few  of  the  ladies  would  have  acknowledged 
it  in  so  many  words,  even  to  themselves,  yet  it  was  a 
fact  that  the  end  of  the  week  found  them  better 
reconciled  to  the  Federal  occupation  than  they  had 
imagined  possible. 

Among  other  advantages,  it  enabled  the  people  to 
lay  up  stores  for  the  future,  when  the  return  of  the 
Confederate  army  would  reduce  them  to  formerly  ex- 
perienced straits;  and  there  was  scarce  a  household 
which  was  not  purchasing  with  a  view  to  this  time, 
hospital  stores,  groceries,  and  even  clothing  for  the 
soldiers. 

Nor  was  this  trafficking  mania  the  only  occupation 
which  served  to  pass  away  the  time  of  the  people  of 
"Winchester.  There  were  about  fifty  sick  men  left  in  the 
hospitals  of  the  town  by  the  Confederates,  and  atten- 
tion to  them  served  as  a  vent  for  the  patriotic  feelings 
of  many  of  the  older  *%dies.    Our  friend  Mrs.  Mason 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  HO 

particularly  spent  a  large  portion  of  her  time  minister- 
iiDg  to  their  wants,  which  were  liberally  supplied  by  the 
Federal  authorities;  and  many  a  poor  boy  who  must 
have  died  for  want  of  stimulants  and  luxuries  necessary 
to  his  low  condition,  revived  under  the  new  reo-ime. 

The  miserable  pallets  which  were  the  best  couches 
which  the  Confederate  hospital  stores  could  supply, 
Avere  exchanged  for  stretchers  whereon  the  poor  suf- 
ferers could  rest  in  comparative  comfort ;  and  the  sur- 
geons attended  the  sick  with  the  same  kindness  and 
attention  as  they  gave  to  their  own  men. 

In  these  sad  times  when  passion  ruled,  and  man  is 
apt  to  present  himself  to  our  view  in  his  worst  aspect, 
it  is  refreshing  to  catch  glimpses  of  his  better  nature 
peering  through  the  darkness  like  a  single  star  in  a 
cloudy  sky.  And  rampant  as  were  bitterness  and 
rancor  in  the  hearts  of  men  and  women  on  both  sides 
of  this  fearful  contest,  it  is  remarkable  that  they 
never  entered  the  presence  of  those  great  levelers, 
sickness,  suffering,  and  death.  Here  the  white  flag  of 
peace  waved ;  here  an  armistice  was  declared,  and 
man  ministered  to  his  brother,  striving  to  revive  in  him 
the  flame  of  life,  which,  fanned  into  strength  by  his 
care,  he  would  remorselessly  destroy  on  the  next  battle- 
field. 

Notwithstanding  these  alleviations  in  the  lot  of  our 
Winchester  friends,  I  would  not  lead  you  to  understand 
that  their  hearts  underwent  any  change  of  affection 
for  or  loyalty  to  the  cause  of  the  South.  It  was  but  a 
taste  of  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt  after  long  abstinence, 
and  daily  loving  thoughts  followed  the  liitle  band  of 
Confederates,  and  prayers  ascended  to  heaven  for  their 
preservation.     The  hardest  trial  which  the  inhabitants 


120  woMEJS',  on  amwyicLEs 

of  a  captured  town  have  to  bear,  probably,  is  the  impos- 
eibility  of  obtainiDg  any  information  relative  to  absent 
ii'iends;  and  this  was  felt  keenly  in  Winchester,  for 
although  the  air  was  full  of  rumors,  no  reliable  intelli- 
gence had  reached  them  of  the  army  since  its  depar- 
ture, and  the  sound  of  a  gun  was  sufficient  to  raise  a 
report  that  Ashby  was  in  the  neighborhood. 

"How  delightful  it  would  be,"  said  Julia  Bell  to 
Ellen  Eandolph,  "  if  the  dear  Confeds  would  only  come 
down  and  seize  all  of  these  stores;  it  would  do  the  poor 
fellows  so  much  good  after  their  hard  fare." 

"I  heard  to-day,"  said  Ellen,  lowering  her  voice  to  a 
whisper,  although  there  was  no  danger  at  all  of  her 
being  overheard,  but  it  adds  a  zest  to  a  feminine  com- 
munication when  it  is  made  in  a  confidential,  mysteri- 
ous tone — "  I  heard  to-day  —  but  don't  mention  it  to  a 
human  being — that  General  Jackson  had  been  rein- 
forced and  was  coming  right  back  here  again." 

"  How  did  you  hear  it  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  j'ou  that,  but  it  is  true  j  the  source  is 
perfectly  reliable." 

"I'll  never  tell;  I  think  you  might  tell  me." 

"  Well,  if  you  never  breathe  it  to  a  soul  —  now  mind," 
said  Ellen,  with  increasing  mystery. 

The  solemn  promise  being  given,  she  continued  in  a 
whisper  so  low  that  her  companion  had  to  put  her  ear 
close  to  hear  at  all. 

"  One  of  our  men  is  in  town  !  "  A  pause  to  see  the 
effect  of  the  information  ;  it  was  gratifying  in  the  start 
with  which  it  was  received,  but  the  exclamation  which 
followed  aloud  "  In  town  1 "  called  forth  a  reproof. 

"Sh h,"  said  Ellen,  excitedly;    -'don't  talk  so 

loud.     Yes,  he  came  in  last  night  and  is  concealed  in  a 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  121 

house  :  he  saj^s  our  men  will  be  here  in  a  very  few 
days." 

''  What  is  ho  doin£>'  here  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

o 

"  Taking  notes,"  said  Ellen,  "  for  General  Jackson's 
benefit;  he  is  one  of  Ashby's  men." 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  him !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Bell. 

Before  the  evening  was  over,  the  information  so 
cautiously  given  had  been  whispered  quite  as  mysteri- 
ously to  a  dozen  other  friends,  and  they  in  their  turn 
conveyed  it  to  others,  so  that  before  night  the  story 
reached  the  Federal  authorities,  transformed  thus: 
That  a  young  officer  of  General  Ashby's  cavalry  had 
made  his  way  into  the  town  to  see  Miss  Eandolph,  to 
whom  he  was  supposed  to  be  engaged.  The  young 
lady,  appreciating  at  its  worth  the  peril  run  in  her  be- 
half, had  concealed  him  in  her  mother's  house,  where 
he  was  now  enjoying  himself.  He  had  brought  the  infor- 
mation that  General  Jackson  with  an  army  of  forty 
thousand  men  was  bearing  down  upon  Winchester 
with  his  usual  rapidity  of  movement,  which  celerity 
would  surround  the  town  by  morning.  Of  course  the 
story  was  a  startling  one,  and  its  results  to  our  com- 
municative young  lady  rather  unexpected. 

About  nine  o'clock  at  night  there  was  a  loud  and  em- 
phatic ring  at  Mr.  Eandolph's  door-bell.  The  unusual 
summons  startled  the  family  not  a  little,  and  some  time 
elapsed  before  it  was  decided  how  it  should  be  an- 
swered. 

"I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph,  with  her  hand  on 
her  heart,  "I  would  go,  but  my  heart  is  beating  so  I 
am  afraid  I  would  faint.  Sister  Annie,  suppose  you 
go." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  rather  tremulously,  it  must 
7 


122  WOMEIi,  OB   CHRONICLES 

be  confessed.  "Oh  yes,  I'll  go.  I  am  not  afraid;  it 
isn't  anj'body  I  know.  !Maybe  one  of  my  poor  boj'S 
is  worse,"  and  she  took  up  the  candle  and  went  to- 
wards the  door. 

"There  it  is  again!"  said  Ellen  as  the  bell  was 
pulled  impatiently  twice,  quickly  followed  by  a  violent 
knock  on  the  door  which  sounded  through  the  house. 

"  Good  gracious  !  what  can  it  be  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mason, 
setting  down  the  candle  and  sinking  into  a  chair. 

"  Well,  some  one  will  have  to  go,"  said  Ellen,  taking 
up  the  candle,  "  or  they  will  batter  the  door  down. 
"Who  is  it?'*  she  called  from  the  end  of  the  passage. 

A  loud  knock  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Come  back,  Ellen,"  said  her  mother,  seizing  her 
skirt. 

"  Come  on,  let's  all  go  and  make  them  answer,"  said 
Ellen, 

"Open  the  window-shutter  and  talk  through  the 
window,"  suggested  Mrs;  Mason,  which  suggestion 
was  adopted,  and  the  light  of  the  adamantine  candle 
shone  upon  three  very  pallid  faces  as  the  shutter 
was  thrown  open.  It  also  made  visible  to  them  a 
crowd  of  dark  figures  in  the  porch  and  on  the  pave- 
ment. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Mason. 

"We  have  orders  to  search  your  house,"  said  one  of 
the  party. 

"  Search  our  house  !  "  ejaculated  all  three  voices  at 
once.     "  For  what  ?  " 

"  You  never  mind  for  what ;  you  must  open  the 
door." 

*'  Oh,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph,  "  we  are  only  a  party 
of  ladies.     Do  wait  until  to-morrow." 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAJi.  123 

"Not  likely,"  said  the  man,  laughing.  "We  would 
rather  talvO  the  chance  of  finding  what  wo  want  to- 
night." 

"I  give  you  the  word  of  a  lady,  gentlemen,"  said 
Mrs.  Mason,  "that  Ave  w^ill  not  move  anything  until 
you  come  to-morrow,  if  you  will  only  Avait  until  day- 
light." 

Her  request  was  met  by  a  peal  of  laughter,  and  one 
of  the  men  was  heard  to  say : 

"  Truthfal  old  lady  that!  But  we  ain't  green  ;  avo 
Avasn't  born  yesterday,  Ave  knoAVS  Rebel  Avomen." 

"  Is  their  no  gentleman  in  the  party,"  said  Ellen 
Eandolph  indignantly,  "to  whom  ladies  can  appeal  for 
protection  ?  VYe  certainly  will  not  be  forced  to  let  a  par- 
cel of  rough  men  into  the  house  at  this  hour  of  night." 

An  officer  stepped  forward  and  raised  his  hat.  "I 
assure  you,  madam,"  he  said,  "  that  I  would  gladly  cs- 
caj^e  a  disagreeable  duty,  but  the  authorities  ha\'0  re- 
ceived information  that  you  have  a  Eebel  officer  con- 
cealed in  this  house,  Avho  has  brought  important  in- 
formation to  the  town,  and  we  are  commissioned  to 
search  the  house  for  him."    .-*' 

"I  assure  you,  sir,  that  you  are  misinformed,"  said 
Mrs.  Mason. 

^'  Forgive  me,  madam,"  said  the  officer,  "  but  I  can- 
not take  a  lady's  Avord  here.  We  know  your  sex  Avill 
sacrifice  everything  for  the  Eebel  cause." 

"Except  truth,"  said  Mrs.  Mason. 

"'  Perhaps  so,"  he  said,  smiling  ;  "  but  our  orders  are 
peremptory.  Your  house  is  surrounded  now,  and  you 
will  be  so  kind  as  to  open  the  door.  I  will  guarantee 
you  against  any  farther  annoyance  than  is  absolutely 
necessary." 


124  WOMBX,    OR   CUROXICLES 

There  was  no  appeal  from  this,  and  the  fastenings 
of  the  door  were  withdrawn.  About  a  dozen  men 
walked  into  the  hall  and  looked  curiously  around. 
Ellen  shrank  sensitively  away,  feeling  her  household 
gods  outraged  by  this  invasion  of  her  home.  She  ob- 
served, too,  that  she  was  the  object  of  curious,  signifi- 
cant glances,  and  heard  one  soldier  whisper  to  another: 

"  That's  the  gal  he  came  after,  I  guess.  Can't  say  I 
blame  him." 

Meanwhile  the  search  proceeded,  and  was  not  want- 
ing in  thoroughness.  Every  nook  and  corner  was 
looked  into  without  discovering  any  one. 

"  This  is  my  daughter's  room,"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph, 
putting  her  hand  on  the  door  as  they  Avere  about  to 
enter ;  "  it  surely  is  not  necessary  for  all  of  these 
men  to  search  her  room." 

The  officer's  face  flushed  as  he  turned  and  bade  all 
but  one  man  to  stand  in  the  hall. 

"  Eather  an  unlikely  looking  harbor  for  a  Eebol  sol- 
dier, I  must  say,"  said  he  as  he  entered,  glancing  round 
at  the  exquisite  neatness  of  the  young  lady's  apart- 
ment, with  its  white  window- curtains,  pretty  bright 
silk  quilt,  and  old  mahogany  furniture. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Ellen  indignantly. 

*'  There  is  no  knowing  what  your  sex  can  be  up  to 
though,"  said  the  man,  trying  the  door  of  the  wardrobe, 
"  Why,  I  knew  a  lady  once  who  hid  her  lover  in  her 
wardrobe.     I'll  be  glad  to  have  your  keys,  ma'am." 

Ellen  handed  them  over,  very  much  disgusted. 

"  Don't  touch  my  clothes,"  she  said  passionately,  as  he 
proceeded  to  turn  aside  the  soft  white  skirts  which 
hung  within ;  ''  I'll  move  everything  and  let  you  see,'' 
and  with  flaming  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes   she  pro- 


OF  THE  LATE   WAB.  125 

ceeded  to  remove  the  clothing,  and  showed  conclusively 
that  no  one  was  hidden  within. 

"I'm  sorry,  ladies,''  said  the  officer  with  unmoved 
serenity,  "but  the  necessities  of  war,'^  and  he  turned 
over  the  mattress  of  the  bed. 

"  Go  down  stairs,  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph  ;  ''  it  is 
not  necessary  for  you  to  stay  here." 

"I'd  rather  not,  mamma;  I'll  try  and  stand  it,"  said 
Ellen,  forcing  back  the  tears  of  mortification  and  anger 
which  filled  her  eyes. 

The  search  was  at  length  over,  and  with  reiterated 
apologies  the  party  took  their  departure,  leaving  be- 
hind them  three  bitter  enemies.  I  ought  to  make  an  ex- 
ception in  favor  of  Mrs.  Mason,  who  said,  in  answer  to 
Ellen's  passionate  expressions  of  indignation,  "My  dear 
child,  you  know  they  can't  help  it;  they  are  obliged  to 
obey  orders." 

"Aunt  Annie,  please  don't  excuse  them,"  said  Ellen, 
taking  away  her  handkerchief  from  her  tear-stained 
face,  and  gesticulating  excitedly  with  it;  "there  cer- 
tainly can  be  no  apology  for  their  coming  into  our  house 
this  time  of  night, — great  rough  men,  and  going  into 
our  very  bed-rooms  to  look  for  concealed  men.  I  de- 
clare it  is  too  humiliating !  Mamma,  please  have  every- 
thing changed  in  my  bed  to-night.  The  idea  of  that 
man's  touching  it !  I  never  will  get  over  it,  never  !  I 
never  will  feel  the  same  in  that  room  as-ain." 

"  That  is  very  foolish,  Ellen,"  said  her  mother,  though 
in  her  heart  she  thought  it  perfectly  natural.  "  Of  course 
your  room  shall  be  fixed,  but  you  shall  not  go  back  there 
to-night.     You  must  come  and  stay  with  me." 

But  Ellen  continued  to  weep  and  scold  without  in- 
termission until  Mrs.  Mason  said : 


126  WOJI^N,  OR   CHRONICLES 

"I  was  so  mucli  afraid  of  their  discovering  our 
hiding-place.  I  felt  quite  tremulous  when  they  came 
near  it." 

It  seemed  to  be  quite  a  pleasant  suggestion  to  the 
young  lady,  for  suddenly  looking  up,  her  eyes  bright- 
ening through  her  tears,  she  said,  bringing  her  hand 
emphatically  upon  the  table  : 

"Yes,  thank  goodness  for  that!  it  is  a  comfort  to 
think  that  we  fooled  them  after  all.  They  would  have 
been  perfectly  delighted  if  they  could  only  have  dis- 
covered our  stores," 


CF  TEE  LATE  WAS. 


CHAPTEE  Xir, 

"A  thousand  fantasies 
Begin  to  throng  into  my  memory, 
Of  calling  shapes,  and  beckoning  shadows  dire, 
And  airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names." — MiLTON". 

*^  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  all  this  confusion  ?  " 
said  good  Mrs.  Mason,  stopping  as  she  was  going 
to  her  hospital  one  day,  and  standing  close  against 
the  wall  to  escape  the  confused  mass  of  human  beings 
who  were  dashing  down  the  street  in  wild  excitement. 

As  she  asked  the  question  of  herself,  it  was  unsatis- 
factory. Just  then  a  company  of  infantry  was  pass- 
ing, and  the  Captain  stopping  beside  her  for  a  moment, 
she  said  politely : 

*' Perhaps  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  the  mean- 
ing of  all  this  confusion  ?  " 

The  man  turned  round,  and  seeing  the  old  lady,  raised 
his  cap  while  he  answered : 

^'  Only  a  little  fright  that  daring  Eebel,  General 
Ashby,  has  given  us.  He  actually  dashed  down  the 
street  of  the  town,  a  bit  ago,  with  three  men  —  think 
of  it,  ma'am,  v^uth  three  men  into  this  town,  where  we 
have  ten  thousand  men  and  more !  But  you  need  not 
be  alarmed,  ma'am,  the  town  is  perfectly  safe.  He  has 
only  his  few  cavalry  with  him." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  of  him,"  said  Mrs.  Mason, 
smiling. 

"  Well,  he  is  a  brave  fellow,  that  Ashby,  I  must  say, 


128  '  WOMEy,  OB  CURONICLES 

if  ho  is  a  Ecbel ;  and  it  certainly  was  one  of  the  most 
dashing  things  I  ever  saw.  I  saw  it,  ma'am,  myself. 
I  was  standing  on  the  corner  of  the  street  when  I 
saw  about  a  dozen  of  our  cavalry  come  tearing  down 
the  street  like  mad,  and  behind  them  these  four  men  ; 
and  our  men  were  actually  pale,  ma'am." 

"And  what  did  you  do  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Mason. 

"  Who,  I  ?  Oh,  I  came  on  at  once  for  my  company ; 
but  I  doubt  whether  he  will  be  there  when  we  get 
back." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,'  "  I  doubt  whether  ho  will 
wait  for  you." 

"  I  am  confident  that  he  will  not ;  but  if  he  would,  we 
would  teach  him  a  lesson  he  would  not  soon  forget." 

"  I  dare  say  ;  but  it  takes  a  good  many  teachers  for 
so  few  scholars,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  laughing. 

Her  exulting  tone  struck  sudden  conviction  to  the 
young  Captain,  and  at  once  recognising  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  talking  to  a  Southern  woman,  and  minis- 
tering to  her  feelings  of  pride  in  this  Yalley-hero  so 
unconsciously,  a  broad  smile  broke  over  his  face,  end- 
ing in  a  hearty  laugh ;  and  as  he  raised  his  cap  and 
ran  down  the  street  after  his  company,  ho  said  : 

"  Sold,  ma'am,  this  time ;  but  it  is  all  true,  every 
word  of  it.     Good  evening." 

As  to  Mrs.  Mason,  she  went  on  to  her  hospital, 
chuckhng  with  delight  at  the  cheering  drop  of  news 
she  would  have  for  her  poor  boys  at  the  hospital.  But 
her  brio-ht  countenance  fell  somewhat  when  she  entered 
the  lono",  low  room  which  was  given  up  to  the  Confede- 
rate hospital,  and  saw  about  a  dozen  men  clustered 
around  a  stretcher  which  had  its  position  near  the  door 
by  which  she  entered. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR  129 

"  What  is  it ;  is  Cliarlie  worse  ?  "  sho  said  as  the  men 
made  room  for  her  to  pass,  and  she  knelt  beside  a  jDoor 
shadow  of  manhood,  or  boyhood,  which  lay  thereon. 

He  could  not  have  been  more  than  eighteen  at  most, 
though  death  often  brings  back  the  youthful  appear- 
ance with  it.  His  light  flaxen  hair  lay  matted  against 
his  damp  forehead,  through  the  pure  whiteness  of  which 
the  blue  veins  showed  clearly;  his  brown  eyes  were 
half  unclosed  in  half  sleeping  and  half  Avaking,  but 
their  fast-glazing  balls  told  that  the  final  sleeping  and 
the  final  waking  were  not  far  off. 

"  Why,  my  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  kneeling  beside 
him,  and  taking  his  transparent  hand  in  hers,  "  what 
is  it ;  when  did  this  change  take  place  ?  " 

The  brown  eyes  unclosed  and  turned  upon  her  with 
a  joyful  look  of  recognition  as  he  said  in  feeling  accents, 
"Mother'  mother!  '' 

The  tears  sprang  to  Mrs.  Mason's  eyes  as  she  bent 
over  him  and  said  ; 

"  Shall  I  write  to  your  mother  for  you  ?  " 

A  look  of  disappointment  crossed  the  dying  face  as 
he  said  : 

"Ob,  I  thought  I  was  at  home  in  the  veranda,  and 
the  smell  of  the  orange-trees  and  the  magnolia  was 
so  sweet,"  and  his  eyes  glanced  around  the  bare  walls 
and  closed,  as  if  words  were  inadequate  to  express  the 
contrast  between  his  dream  and  the  reality. 

Mrs.  Mason  put  a  spoon  containing  wine  to  his  mouth. 
He  swallowed  it,  and  again  turned  to  her. 

"  You  know  me,  don't  you,  Charlie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  know  you  now.    Thank  you,  ma'am." 

"You  don't  feel  so  well  to-day?  "  said  Mrs.  Mason. 

"  Well  —  I  think  I  would  be  right  well  if  I  could 
7* 


130  woMEy,  on  cuiioyicLES 

only  bo  at  home  with  mother  and  the  girls.  I  think  I 
am  a  little  home-sick,"  and  a  pitiful  attempt  to  smile 
at  the  unmanly  confession  crossed  the  poor,  thin,  worn 
face.  "  It  seems  to  me  if  I  could  j  list  have  one  drink  out 
of  the  spring  that  is  near  our  house,  it  would  quench 
my  thirst  better  than  a  whole  fountain  of  water  here." 
His  voice  was  becoming  quite  strong  in  his  earnestness, 
and  the  glazed  eye  brightened  into  life  again  for  an 
instant,  as  if  even  the  thought  of  home  had  the  power 
to  bring  back  the  ebbing  tide  to  the  heart. 

"  And,"  he  went  on,  '•'  I  feel  so  sorry  for  my  poor 
mother ;  she  must  be  so  uneasy  about  me.  You  see  I 
am  all  the  boy  she  has ;  and  three  girls.  There !  that's 
right.  I  feel  like  it  was  her  hand  now.  That's  just 
the  way  she  used  to  smooth  back  my  hair.  And  could 
you  just  kiss  me  there  if  you  please,  ma'am,  just  for 
my  mother's  sake,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Mason  stooped  over  and  kissed  his  forehead. 
"  But,  Charlie,"  she  said,  ''  though  your  mother  and 
sisters  are  so  far  away,  you  know  that  there  is  a  Friend 
beside  you  still." 

He  turned  a  grateful  look  on  her. 

"  No,  not  I,"  said  she,  interj)reting  his  expression ; 
"but  don't  you  know  how  often  I  have  told  you  about 
Jesus,  the  sinner's  friend,  who  loved  you  so  much  that 
He  died  for  you,  and  now  offers  you  rest  from  all  your 
sickness  and  weariness  —  a  home  for  the  homeless,  and 
life  for  the  dead.  He  says,  *  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that 
weary  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 
Oh,  Charlie,  my  boy,  take  Him  for  your  Saviour  !  cling 
to  Him  now  in  this  sad  hour !  " 

He  but  half  comprehended  her  last  appeal,  as  he 
showed  by  stretching  out  his  hands  as  if  he  would 
grasp  tangible  help  offered. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAE,  131 

She  took  his  hand  and  held  it,  and  said,  "  llTot  that 
way,  my  boy;  but  listen  to  me,  Charlie.  If  you  were 
lying  wounded  and  thirsting  upon  a  battle-field,  and 
one  were  to  como  to  you  and  offer  you  cool,  clear  water, 
such  as  flows  from  your  spring  at  home,  would  you  not 
take  it?" 

"Yes,  oh  yes!" 

"Then  just  so  your  Saviour  offers  your  thirsty  soul 
the  water  of  life.  Will  you  not  accept  it  ?  will  you  not, 
dear  boy?  will  you  not?"  and  she  leant  over  him  and 
spoke  in  his  ear,  as  he  was  gone  so  far  into  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death  that  her  voice  scarce  reached 
the  thither  side,  and  she  only  caught  the  words: 

"  Yes  —  Jesus !  —  rest !  —  mother  I  —  home  !  " 

"Oh,  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  turning  her  tear-stained 
face  to  the  awe-struck  soldiers  who  stood  around,  "  take 
warning  while  you  may.  Your  hour  may  come  as  his 
has.  Have  Jesus  for  your  support ;  enlist  in  His  army 
and  you  are  safe  —  He  always  conquers.'* 

It  was  touching  to  see  them  gathering  around  to 
hear  her  simple  sermon,  the  solemn  commentary  upon 
which  lay  so  still  and  white  before  them.  Great 
bronzed  men  with  a  gray  hair  here  and  there,  and 
young  men,  some  with  the  ''  lingering  light  of  their 
bo^'^hood's  grace "  still  about  them,  knelt  with  her 
there,  nor  was  there  a  dry  eye  or  a  quiet  heart  amongst 
them  while  her  sweet  voice  rose  in  supplication  for 
them.  Save  one !  and  he  in  his  silence  a  most  im- 
pressive teacher  for  the  rest. 


132  WOMiJJ^,  Oil  CUliOJSlCLES 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"When  Greeks  joined  Greeks,  then  came  the  tug  of  war." 

Nathaniel  Lsb. 
The  position  of  the  Confederate  army  at  Manassas 
was  one  of  great  interest  and  peril.  The  United  States, 
profiting  by  their  late  lesson,  were  gathering  their 
forces  most  vigorously;  able  officers  were  appointed  to 
the  various  commands,  and  the  prosecution  of  the  war 
was  determined  upon  a  far  more  energetic  scale  than 
heretofore.  They  had  underrated  the  strength  and  en- 
durance of  the  Southern  troops,  but  since  *'  Greek  met 
Greek "  this  was  no  longer  the  case,  and  General 
Johnston  found  it  necessary  to  contract  his  line  of  de- 
fence by  drawing  the  enemy  further  inward  from  his 
supplies,  as  something  towards  equalising  the  relative 
strength  of  the  two  armies.  But  to  accomplish  his  task 
required  all  of  his  thought  and  wariness.  Did  the 
Federals  once  suspect  his  design,  they  might  pre- 
cipitate an  attack  which  would  not  only  be  fatal  to 
his  army,  but  to  the  Confederate  capital  and  even  to  the 
Southern  cause.  So  the  greatest  secrecy  was  maintained 
about  all  of  his  movements;  daily  the  railroad  trains 
were  quietly  packed  with  stores,  but  the  constant  ac- 
tivity along  the  lines  and  apparent  preparation  for  a 
forward  move  kept  suspicion  away.  The  large  army  at 
Winchester,  however,  under  Shields  and  Banks,  gave 
General  Johnston  more  disquiet  than  even  the  larger 
one  in  front  of  him,  because  they  were  really  in  his 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAR. 


133 


roar,  and  by  making  a  forced  march  across  the  moun- 
tams,  as  General  Jackson  had  done  prior  to  the  battle 
of  Manassas,  they  could  place  him  between  two  powor- 
lul  armies  and  inevitably  crush  him.  That  this  was  their 
intention  he  had  every  reason  to  know;  and  he  had 
daily  reports  from  Winchester  of  indications  leadino.  to 
this  move.  In  his  dilemma  General  Johnston  sent  a  'dis- 
patch ordering  General  Jackson,  if  possible,  to  engage  ' 
ISanks  s  army  so  as  to  prevent  this  movement,  thou4 
he  had  no  men  to  send  to  assist  in  the  effort.  ° 

General  Jackson  was  not  a  man  to  look  at  second 
causes.     He  knew  the  danger  to  be  imminent,  and  he 
knew  also  that  his  small  force  was  outnumbered  three 
or  four  times  at  least  by  Banks  in  Winchester,  but  even 
unaer  these  circumstances  he  determined  to  make  an 
attack.     Nor  did  he  despair  of  victory;  he  knew  that 
there  was  One  who  could  if  He  pleased  give  it  to  him- 
could  make  "one  chase  a  thousand,  and  two  put  ten 
thousand  to  flight."     He  found  when  he  had  turned  to- 
wards Winchester  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost- 
the  dreaded  movement  had   already  commenced      A 
large  portion  of  the  force   of   General   Banks   were 
moving  m  the  direction  of  3Ianassas 

Ashby's  dash  into  Winchester,  of  which  we  have  al- 
ready given  some  account,  was  made  to  draw  out  the 

?ud!e  T.!  *°''"J"  °'''''''  "''*'  ^^'^  ""'Sht  be  able  to 
judge  of  the  numbers  they  would  have  opposed  to 
them  It  was  eminently  successful,  as  the  entire  Fed- 
eral force,  as  if  in  obedience  to  his  summons,  was  drawn 

which  General  Shields,  the  Federal  commandant  ofke 
post  m  conjunction  with  General  Banks,  had  his  right 
arm  broken  by  a  chance  shell. 


i3i  ^ro2fE^\  or  cnnomcLES 

The  next  morning  the  battle  of  Kernstown  com- 
menced. It  took  its  name  froQi  a  small  liamlct  about 
four  miles  from  "Winchester,  around  which  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  battle  was  fought. 

It  was  probably  one  of  the  most  desperately  and  well- 
contested  battles  of  the  war.  General  Jackson  always 
-spoke  of  it  as  such.  The  disparity  of  numbers  was 
fearful,  but  notwithstanding  this  fact  the  field  was  con- 
tended for  during  the  entire  day,  and  the  result  un- 
certain. 

To  describe  the  anxiety  of  the  people  of  Winchester 
would  be  impossible ;  they  knew  that  the  Stonewall 
Brigade  was  engaged,  and  the  Stonewall  Brigade  in- 
cluded all  of  the  young  men  from  the  town  and  country 
round.  The  firing  was  terrible ;  the  booming  of  the 
cannon  was  so  continuous  that  it  sounded  like  crashing 
thunder.  ]^or  was  the  illusion  destroyed  by  a  nearer 
view,  as  the  flashes  which  preceded  the  discharges  were 
fearful.  But  the  crackling  of  the  musketry  was  even  a 
more  dreadful  sound  than  the  cannonading;  it  lasted 
without  intermission  for  hours.  Every  house-top  was 
covered  with  anxious  listeners  in  various  attitudes,  ex- 
pressive of  their  overwhelming  agony  of  suspense.  This 
was  somewhat  alleviated  by  the  evident  dismay  and  ap- 
prehension of  the  Federals,  who  rode  about  the  streets 
collecting  up  the  stragglers  and  hurrying  them  to  the 
front,  and  by  evening  these  symptoms  increased  so 
much  that  in  the  same  proportion  the  spirits  of  the 
people  revived. 

"Our  men  will  certainly  be  in  by  to-morrow  morn- 
ing," said  Ellen  Eandolph,  entering  her  mother's  room 
with  face  flushed  with  excitement.  She  hesitated  when 
she  found  that  Mrs.  Mason  was  on  her  knees,  and  Mrs. 


OF  THE  LATB  WAR.  135 

Randolph  with  her  Bible  on  her  knee,  each  trying  to 
draw  their  strength  and  support  in  the  hour  of  fearful 
trial  from  the  source  of  all  strength. 

"How  do  you  know?"  said  both  ladies,  rising  at  the 
joyful  intelligence, 

"  ATcll,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  was  at  the  parlor  window  just 
now,  with  the  shutters  closed,  listening  for  sonie  news 
from  the  passers-by.  The  porch  was  full  of  stragglers, 
one  of  whom  called  out  to  a  cavalryman  who  dashed 
up  the  street:  'What  news  from  the  battle-field?' 
'Kews!'  he  said,  riding  up  to  the  pavement,  'the 
news  is  that  every  one  of  you  ought  to  be  out  on  the 
field.  I  am  ordered  to  gather  up  all  the  men  about 
town,  and  form  them  into  a  company  and  march  them 
out.  The  fact  is  we  have  been  flanked,  and  if  some  relief 
does  not  come  in  a  very  short  time  we  will  have  to  re- 
treat. So  come  on,  every  man  of  you  ! '"  And  Ellen 
danced  around  the  room  in  great  excitement. 

"My  child,''  said  Mrs.  Eandolph,  "you  forget  what 
suffering  may  come  to  us,  even  with  a  victory." 

Ellen  stopped.  "Indeed,  Mamma,"  she  said,  "  I  forgot 
everything  in  the  triumph." 

Night  fell  at  last,  and  everything  was  ominously  quiet. 
Kone  of  the  inhabitants  were  allowed  to  go  out  of  their 
houses  after  nightfall,  so  that  there  was  no  possibility 
of  hearing  anything,  though  every  one  continued  full  of 
hope  until  about  nine  o'clock,  when  the  sound  of  the 
miUtary  bands  playing  "Yankee  Doodle"  at  head- 
quarters fell  like  a  knell  upon  every  heart,  and  the 
night  was  passed  in  all  the  agony  of  suspense.  Unable 
to  bear  it  any  longer,  at  the  first  dawn  of  day  Ellon 
Eandolph  rose  and  determined  to  go  out  and  find  out 
something.     Issuing  from  the  front  door,  she  could  see. 


136  WOMLW,  OR  CHRONICLES 

to  her  surprise,  figures  of  her  own  sex  passing  and  re- 
passing in  the  distance,  and  occasionally  a  blue  uniform. 

Hastening  down  the  street,  she  encountered  a  friend 
with  tear-stained  face,  wringing  her  hands  as  she 
hastened  on. 

"What  is  the  matter?  "  she  said  breathlessly,  as  she 
overtook  her. 

"Matter!"  was  the  answer,  in  a  hollow  tone  of 
despair;  "don't  3'ou  know  that  Jackson's  command  has 
been  cut  all  to  ])ieces,  and  those  who  are  not  killed  are 
taken  prisoners.  The  jail,  warehouses,  and  churches 
are  used  as  prisons  for  our  dear  ones.  I  am  just  going 
to  hunt  for  my  three  boys.  I  don't  know  w^hether  they 
are  dead  or  prisoners."  And  she  wrung  her  hands 
again  in  the  extremity  of  her  misery. 

Ellen  staggered  for  an  instant  under  the  force  of  the 
blow,  and  then  hurried  on  with  her  companion. 

It  was  even  so;  they  had  entered  Winchester,  but  as 
prisoners.  There  were  comparatively  few  deaths,  how- 
ever, as  a  portion  of  the  command  had  been  surrounded 
and  captured  entire. 

During  the  day  the  streets  were  thronged  with 
women  looking  in  the  different  prisons  for  their  friends, 
or  seeking  information  of  them  from  the  prisoners. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  John  Aylet,  of  the  2nd 
Virginia  ?"  asked  a  poor,  anxious-looking  mother  of 
Bome  prisoners  who  stood  at  the  open  window  of  one 
of  the  houses  used  as  a  prison. 

"John  Aylet,  of  the  2nd  Virginia?  Oh  yes,  ho  is 
somewhere  hero  —  wounded,  I  think." 

"Wounded'  where?" 

"Xot  bad,  I  think,  ma'am;  but  he  fought  by  me,  and 
I  saw  him  fall." 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  I37 

Off  hurried  the  poor  womim  to  resume  her  search. 

"Charlie,  Charlie,  there  you  arc,  thank  God!  "said 
another,  recognising  a  brother,  ''  I  have  been  afraid 
to  ask  anybody  about  you  ;  and  to  think  you  can't  come 
out  —  it  does  seem  too  hard." 

"  Might  have  been  worse,  Sue,"  was  the  cheerful 
answer.  "I  tell  you  it  was  an  awful  fight,  and  many 
a  fine  fellow  bit  the  dust;  and  then  to  be  whipped 
after  all !" 

"You  made  a  brave  fight  though,  against  fearful 
odds.     I  am  proud  of  it." 

"For  goodness  sake,  Sue,  get  lis  something  to  eat. 
We  have  had  nothing  since  yesterday  morning,  and 
are  almost  starved." 

This  intimation  was  enough,  and  soon  the  women 
hurried  from  place  to  place  with  baskets  of  provision, 
which  the}^  v/ere  allowed  to  pass  in  at  the  windows. 
It  was  a  relief  to  be  able  to  serve  them,  and  they  con- 
sidered it  a  favor  that  they  should  be  permitted  to 
do  so. 

Indeed,  either  from  policy,  which  at  this  stage  of  the 
war  dictated  an  indulgent  course  to  the  people,  or  from 
a  desire  to  be  relieved  from  the  trouble  of  supplying 
the  wants  of  their  prisoners,  no  interference  was  made 
with  the  action  of  the  citizens  in  this  matter.  They 
were  also  allowed  to  take  the  wounded  home  to  their 
houses,  that  they  might  nurse  them. 

"Mr.  Dallam!  Captain  Williams!  "  exclaimed  Ellen 
Eaudolph,  stopping  short  upon  hearing  her  name 
called  and  recognising  these  two  gentlemen. 

"  Even  so,  Miss  Eandolph,"  said  the  last-named  gen- 
tleman ;  *' fairly  caught  and  caged." 

"What  have  you  got   in   that   basket,    Miss  Ean- 


138  WOMLW,   on   (JRRONWLES 

dolph?"  said  ]\Ir.  Dallam.  '-Something  to  eat,  I 
hope;  for  I  am  actually  starved." 

Ellen  quickly  handed  the  basket  up  to  them,  and 
saw  its  contents  distributed  to  about  a  dozen  men  in 
the  room  with  them. 

"AVhatisthe  news  from  Eoso  Hill?"  asked  she,  as 
they  employed  themselves  in  the  destruction  of  the 
viands. 

"  I  made  a  dash  there  the  other  day,"  said  Mr. 
Dallam ;  "  found  all  well,  but  rather  melancholy  at  the 
prospect  of  parting  from  Mr.  Holcombe,  who  goes  to 
Eichmond  in  a  few  days  to  take  a  post  appointment. 
Your  cousin,  Miss  Mary,  is  all  right.  I  looked  in  vain 
for  tiie  qualities  you  gave  her  credit  for  the  other  da3\ 
I  know  her  better  than  you  do,"  laughing  triumph- 
antly. 

*' Maybe  so,"  said  Ellen;  ''it  is  too  early  to  decide 
that  matter.  How  long  are  you  all  to  be  permitted  to 
stay  in  town  ?" 

"We  leave  for  Baltimore  this  afternoon,  I  think," 
said  Caj^tain  Williams.  "  But  we  will  be  exchanged 
very  soon,  I  expect,  as  we  have  the  majority  of  prisoners 
now,  and  they  are  glad  to  exchange." 

"I  wish  we  could  be  exchanged,"  said  Ellen  rue- 
fully. 

"  Never  mind ;  next  time  we  come  I  hope  we  will 
release  you,"  said  Mr.  Williams.  "  We  tried  hard  this 
time,  but  they  were  too  many  for  us." 

They  were  marched  to  the  cars  under  guard  that 
afternoon,  and  the  last  sight  of  them  the  ladies  bad 
were  bright  familiar  faces  looking  and  smiling  at  them 
from  the  dreary  box-cars.  Captain  Williams  managed 
to  whisper  to  Ellen  Eandolph  before  be  left : 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  139 

''  If  you  should  sec  your  cousin  before  I  do,  say  to 
her  that  I  am  hero  thus  and  now  in  fulfillment  of  my 
promise  to  her,  to  Avliich,  God  lielx^ing  me,  I  will  bo 
lliithful." 

Many  times  did  Ellen  ponder  this  message  over,  but 
wanted  a  key  to  the  mystery  involved.  It  was  not 
until  a  long,  long  time  afterwards  that  it  was  furnished 
to  her. 

We  know  now,  what  was  only  known  at  the  time  to 
those  who  were  masters  of  the  situation,  that  the  ob- 
ject "which  General  Jackson  proposed  to  accomplish  by 
this  desperate  battle  was  fully  attained.  Several  regi- 
ments which  had  actually  started  towards  Manassas 
were  ordered  back  to  Winchester,  and  General  Johnston 
fell  back  to  a  new  line  of  defence  without  the  lost  of  a 
single  man  or  a  dollar's  worth  of  property.  It  was 
considered  one  of  the  most  masterly  retreats  of  the 
war,  but  must  have  failed  disastrously  had  it  not  been 
for  the  sacrifices  made  on  the  battle-field  of  Kerns- 
town, 


110  ^YOMB^\  on  chronicled 


CHAPTEE  XIY. 

"How  fading  are  ibe  joys  we  dote  upoa  ! 
Like  npjxiritions  seen  and  gone; 
Diit  those  wliicli  soonest  take  iheir  flight 
Are  tlie  most  exquisite  and  strong  ; 
Like  angels'  vi5it3,  short  and  bright, 
Mortality's  too  weak  to  bear  them  long." 

John  Norris. 

A  CHRONICLER  is  a,  privileged  individual ;  he  is,  in 
fact  the  greatest  sovereign  in  the  universe.  Defying 
time  and  space,  he  traverses  continents  by  a  stroke  of 
his  pen,  and 

"  Makes  a  moment  of  a  rolling  age." 

He  makes  and  unmakes  at  will,  creates  men  and  women 
to  represent  Ms  ideas,  and  incidents  to  serve  his  ends. 
With  equal  case  he  shares  the  throne  of  the  king  and 
the  fireside  of  the  peasant.  He  waves  a  wand,  and 
riches  spring  out  of  the  earth,  or  "  take  themselves 
wings  and  flee  away ; "  flowers  bloom  at  his  bidding, 
and  the  clouds  empty  themselves  upon  the  earth. 
With  impertinent  boldness  he  dives  into  the  most 
sacred  privacies  of  a  household,  and  drags  into  the 
broad  light  of  day  the  most  secret  motives.  He  ar- 
rogates to  himself  the  right  to  sit  in  judgment  upon 
actions,  and  permits  no  appeal  from  his  decisions.  He 
but  speaks,  and  war  desolates  the  earth  or  peace  smiles 
again.  In  a  word,  his  power  is  unlimited  save  by 
thought,  and  his  rule  untrammelled  over  the  empire  of 
ideas. 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAR.  Ul 

Claiming  a  small  portion  of  these  my  rights,  I  again 
transport  my  reader  to  Eose  Ilill.  It  has  undergone 
some  changes  since  we  last  looked  upon  it.  Nature 
does  not  smile  so  broadly  as  she  once  did.  The  fields 
lie  neglected,  and  the  uncut  wheat  droops  its  golden 
heads  with  shame.  The  cattle,  too  many  of  them, 
have  gone  to  enrich  the  Confederate  commissariat, 
which,  like  the  insatiable  daughters  of  the  horse-leech, 
is  ever  crying  Give !  give !  But  still  enough  remains 
to  preserve  for  the  old  place  its  air  of  elegant  comfort 
and  inviting  hospitality;  and  the  demands  upon  it  in 
these  times  were  not  small.  Every  household  was  obliged 
to  live  in  a  state  of  preparation  for  visitors,  nor  would 
any  one  refuse  to  supply  a  soldier,  so  long  as  the  larder 
contained  a  modicum  of  food. 

"  Margie,  it  is  a  curious  fact,  which  I  do  not  know 
that  you  have  observed,"  said  Mary  Holcombe,  enter- 
ing the  library  where  her  sister  sat  at  work,  "  but  I 
never  yet  have  seen  a  soldier  who  has  had  anything 
to  eat  for  three  days." 

Margie  laughed. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  fact,"  continued  Mary;  ^' great  hearty- 
looking  men  come  here,  looking  like  Samsons  for 
strength,  and  in  the  weakest  voice  say :  '  I  cum  to  see 
if  I  couldn't  git  a  bite  of  something  to  eat;  I  ain't  had 
a  bite  these  three  days.'  " 

"  I  am  afraid  we  won't  have  a  mouthful  for  a  longer 
time  than  that  if  this  goes  on  much  longer,"  said 
Margie  ;  "  but  poor  fellows,  I  w^ould  rather  go  without 
any  time  and  let  them  have  it." 

"  Goodness,  here  comes  another!  "  said  Mary,  looking 
from  the  window  and  descrying  a  man  in  the  distance 
approaching  the    house    on    horseback.     "Margie,   if 


142  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

another  one  comes  to  see  if  he  can't  'git'  something  to 
eat,  your  newl}^  avowed  patriotism  "svill  be  put  to  the 
test,  as  there  is  not  a  mouthful  except  our  dinner  now." 

"That  is  an  officer,"  said  Margie,  regarding  the  ap- 
proaching horseman  with  attention.  ''I  wish  I  could 
persuade  myself  that  it  was  a  large  enough  man  to  be 
my  husband.'^ 

"Margie,  can  it  be  Mr.  Williams?  "  said  Mary,  the 
blood  rushing  to  her  face  in  torrents. 

''  It  is  !  "  exclaimed  her  sister  with  sudden  conviction ; 
"  the  exchanges  have  been  made  then,  and  I  suppose  we 
may  look  for  your  beloved  in  a  few  days,"  and  she 
turned  teasingly  towards  Mary,  to  find  her  standing 
with  her  hand  pressed  upon  her  heart,  as  though  to 
still  its  violent  beatings  while  the  blood,  which  a  moment 
before  had  flooded  face  and  throat,  had  receded,  leaving 
her  as  colorless  as  the  dead. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Mary  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Murray,  starting  to  her  feet. 

The  question  was  a  relief,  as  it  brought  the  tears  to 
her  eyes  and  broke  the  spell  which  would  in  another 
second  have  deprived  her  of  consciousness. 

"I  don  t  know.  I  feel  as  if  something  dreadful  had 
happened;  I  have  not  heard  from  Mr.  Dallam  for  so 
long." 

"You  have  had  no  chance  of  hearing,"  said  Mrs. 
Murray,  placing  her  in  a  chair  and  bathing  her  face  in 
some  cologne.  "  I  think  it  is  very  foolish  in  you  to 
allow  yourself  to  be  uneasy  on  any  such  ground  as  that; 
he  is  certainly  safe  as  a  i^risoner." 

"I  know  it  is  foolish,"  said  Mary,  wiping  her  eyes; 
"but  I  just  felt  a  sudden  terror  as  I  saw  Mr.  Williams. 
But  let  us  go  and  meet  him." 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  143 

She  hung  back,  however,  behind  her  sister,  a  pain- 
ful recollection  of  their  last  parting  contributing  to 
the  awkwardness  of  their  present  meeting. 

"Why,  liow  d'ye  do,  my  friend?"  said  Mrs.  Murray, 
greeting  him  warmly;  ''you  arc  almost  as  welcome  as 
my  lord  and  master  would  be,  because  I  can  congrat- 
ulate you  upon  your  release.  Tell  us  all  about  it;  but 
first  relieve  the  anxieties  of  this  love-lorn  damsel,  who 
nearly  fainted  at  the  sight  of  you,  because  a  certain 
Lieutenant  wo  wot  of  was  not  with  you." 

Captain  Williams  raised  his  eyes  to  the  fair  young 
face,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  her  embarrassment 
which  prevented  her  from  looking  steadily  at  him,  she 
would  have  been  startled  at  the  expression  of  sorrow- 
ful tenderness  which  filled  his  eyes  as  he  took  her 
hand. 

"Lieutenant  Dallam  is  very  well." 

"  Was  he  exchanged  ?  "  asked  Margie. 

"  ]^o  —  o  —  he  has  gone  on  a  visit  to  his  mother  who 
is  sick." 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  Mary  breathed  more 
freely;  but  she  Avas  still  silent  and  unlike  herself,  and 
avoided  looking  at  Captain  Williams,  while  every 
now  and  then  his  kind  eyes  would  seek  hers  with  that 
same  expression  of  tender  solicitude. 

That  he  should  bo  constrained  and  less  cheerful  than 
usual,  Mary  knew  to  be  natural ;  and  confident  of  her 
knowledge,  she  failed  to  suspect  that  there  was  anything 
more  involved  in  it. 

*' Mamma  is  in  Richmond  with  Papa,"  said  Margie, 
answering  Captain  Williams'  inquiry;  "she  will  bo 
back  before  long.  But  Papa  still  requires  her  so  much 
that  I  don't  know  how  she  is  ever  to  leave  him.     And 


14:4:  WOMEN,   OF,   CHRONICLES 

Eddy,  too,  thinks  himself  indispensable ;  he  calls  him- 
self '  Papa's  leg.'  " 

"Any  news  from  AYinchester  ?  "  asked  Captain  Wil- 
liams. 

"Yes,  a  long  letter  from  Xell,  which  was  smuggled 
through  by  some  woman  who  came  through  the  lines. 
She  says  that  every  one  of  their  servants  left  them, 
and  they  have  gone  regularly  to  cooking.  She 
gives  a  very  amusing  account  of  their  condition  the 
morning  they  left.  The  first  notice  they  had  of  it,  ex- 
cept a  mere  suspicion  growing  out  of  their  devotion  to 
the  Yankees  and  their  change  of  manner  to  themselves, 
was  an  army-wagon  driving  up  to  the  door  at  daylight, 
and  the  entire  family  of  domestics,  eight  in  number, 
stepping  out  ready  equipped  for  their  departure.  Aunt 
!Mary  went  out  and  spoke  to  them,  when  they  conde- 
scended to  tell  her  good-bye.  Of  course  no  one  made 
a  remonstrance,  it  would  have  been  useless  ;  and  be- 
sides, no  one  wanted  them  to  stay  under  the  circum- 
stances—  all  confidence  between  the  parties  had  been 
destroyed.  But  Ellen  says  that  Aunt  Annie  bustled 
up  at  once,  and  announced  that  she  was  going  down 
to  get  breakfast ;  and  dressing  herself  in  a  wrapper 
and  the  most  cooky  apron  she  could  find,  she  disap- 
peared. In  about  half  an  hour  after,  Ellen  followed 
her,  and  she  says  —  but  I  will  read  what  she  says,  as  I 
cannot  do  justice  to  it : 

" '  ^largie,  you  remember  the  stories  we  used  to 
read  about  catching  monkeys.  A  man  goes  under  a 
tree  full  of  monkeys  and  washes  his  hands,  then  fills  the 
basin  with  tar  and  walks  away.  The  imitative  creatures 
at  once  come  down  and  dip  their  paws  in  the  basin,  where 
the  tar  holds  them  and  they  are  easily  caught. 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  145 

*' '  Well,  when  I  got  into  the  kitchen  I  was  laughably 
reminded  of  this  old  story,  as  there  stood  dear  old 
Aunty,  the  most  disconsolate  figure  you  ever  saw,  with 
her  hands  stuck  in  the  dough  which  Sarah  had  made  up 
the  night  before.  She  was  perfectly  helpless  and  mis- 
erable, not  able  to  extricate  herself  or  to  go  on.  1 
laughed  until  I  could  not  stand  up,  and  at  last  had  to 
get  a  knife  and  scrape  her  out  of  her  difficulty.  But 
they  had  the  laugh  on  me  afterwards,  as  I  undertook 
to  milk  the  cow ;  and  if  you  could  only  have  seen  me! 
I  always  was  afraid  of  a  cow,  and  I  w^ould  stand  off  at 
arm's-length  and  pat  her  and  say,  "  So,  Sukey !  so, 
Suk^y!  "  and  if  she  turned  her  head  I  would  jump 
back,  perfectly  sure  she  was  going  to  resent  my  atten- 
tions in  some  way.  Necessity  knows  no  law,  however, 
and  down  I  had  to  come  on  my  marrow-bones,  and 
most  tremblingly  I  commenced  pumping  away  for 
milk ;  but  not  a  drop  came.  There  stood  Mamma  and 
Aunt  Annie  looking  on,  not  knowing  what  to  advise, 
and  I  red  in  the  face  from  the  exertion.  My  hands  were 
cramped  until  I  could  hardly  open  them,  and  I  was  so 
stiff  I  couldn't  get  up  from  under  the  cow  at  all.  In 
the  end,  however,  she  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and 
quietly  kicking  me  over,  walked  off  to  the  corner  of 
the  yard  and  glowered  at  the  whole  party  as  if  daring 
us  to  come  near  her  again.  We  had  to  get  a  servant 
from  the  neighborhood  to  milk  for  us,  and  give  her 
half  the  milk  to  pay  her  for  it.' 

*'  I  went  right  down,"  said  Mary,  "  and  took  lessons 
in  bread-making  and  milking,  very  much  to  Mammy's 
indignation.  But  I  do  think  we  ought  to  learn  to  be 
perfectly  independent  in  these  times." 

Mr.  Williams  smiled.     "I  hope  you  will  never  find 


146  WOMBJ^,  OR  CURONICLES 

any  use  for  your  knowledge ;  but  if  you  do,  send  for 
me,  and  I  will  make  your  bread  for  you.  I  don't  think 
those  hands  look  promising  for  hard  work." 

"If  you  could  only  see  her  at  it,  Mr.  TVilliams," 
said  Mrs.  Murray.  ''She  rolls  up  her  sleeves  to  the 
shoulder,  and  begins  by  spreading  the  flour  from  the 
crown  of  her  head  to  the  soles  of  her  feet ;  and  her 
dough  is  always  too  wet  or  too  dry,  and  then  Dolly 
comes  to  the  rescue  and  works  it  a  little,  and  so  at 
last  it  gets  done,  and  Mary  claims  it  as  her  bread." 

"  Ingratitude,  thy  name  is  Margaret  Murray !  "  said 
Mary,  joining  in  the  laugh  against  herself.  '•  After  the 
incredible  exertions  I  have  made  for  the  comfort  of  this 
family,  to  be  treated  in  this  way !  " 

Thus  the  day  wore  away  in  genial  talk.  In  return 
for  these  glimpses  the  ladies  furnished  into  their  own 
experience,  Captain  Williams  gave  them  graphic  pictures 
of  their  life  in  the  prison  at  Fort  Delaware,  but  in  his 
narrations  Lieutenant  Dallam's  name  was  never  men- 
tioned. Mary  did  not  expect  it,  and  had  her  own  way  of 
accounting  for  the  omission ;  but  Margaret  wondered 
over  it  a  good  deal.  She  was  also  struck  with  his  de- 
pressed manner,  and  once  or  twice  surprised  him  in  the 
midst  of  some  animated  story  she  was  telling  looking 
very  much  as  if  he  had  not  heard  one  word.  As  even- 
ing approached  this  absence  of  manner  increased;  and 
when  she  proposed  that  they  should  walk  down  to  the 
sunset  tree,  he  said  quietly,  but  with  a  decision  not  to 
be  mistaken  or  controverted,  "  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
to  let  me  take  this  young  lady  by  herself,"  turning  to 
Mary  ;  "  I  have  a  good  many  messages  to  deliver  which 
it  would  embarrass  her  to  hear  before  a  third  party." 
She  thought  it  a  very  natural  proposal,  and  gladly  went 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  147 

off  to  look  for  her  boy,  feeling  quite  relieved  that  she 
was  released  from  any  obligation  to  absent  herself 
longer  from  him. 

Kever  did  man  feel  more  painful  embarrassment  than 
Captain  Williams  at  the  prospect  ofthis  interview.  The 
furrows  in  his  brow  deepened,  and  the  lines  about  his 
mouth  became  more  marked  as  he  joined  Mary  on  the 
front  porch.  With  the  quickness  which  is  one  of  woman's 
attributes  she  allowed  none  of  this  to  escape  her ;  but 
thinking  she  knew  the  reason  why,  she  failed  to  take  to 
heart  the  warning  his  manner  offered  to  her.  A  feeling 
of  feminine  regret  for  his  evident  trouble,  and  pride  that 
she  should  have  been  capable  of  inspiring  so  strong  an 
affection  in  one  so  far  beyond  most  of  his  compeers  in 
all  the  qualities  which  go  to  make  up  and  adorn  a  man'^s 
character,  filled  her  breast,  and  mingled  with  surprise 
that  he  should  show  so  little  self-control  in  the  mas- 
tery or  concealment  of  his  feelings,  made  her  anxious  to 
avoid  a  recurrence  of  their  former  painful  interview. 
She  therefore  talked  incessantly  about  everything  and 
everybody,  filled  up  her  own  pauses  with  laughter,  and 
every  now  and  then  glanced  wonderingly  at  the  grave, 
sad-looking  man  who  walked  by  her  side  saying  not  a 
word,  but  whose  heart  constantly  repeated  : 

"  How  shall  I  ever  say  it !   how  shall  I  tell  her !  " 

Deferring  an  evil  is  not  curing  it,  however,  and  in 
his  difficulty  he  began  where  he  ought  to  have  ended. 

They  had  reached  the  shelter  of  the  grove,  where 
the  trees  grew  sparsely,  leaving  space  for  the  flickering 
light  and  shade  to  weave  their  fantastic  shapes  upon 
the  green  grass.  Turning  upon  her  abruptly,  almost 
interrupting  her  in  something  she  was  saying,  he  said, 
taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket : 


148  WOMEJV,  on  CURONIULEti 

"  This  is  for  you,  Mary." 

Eagerly  she  seized  it,  and  as  the  flush  on  her  cheeks 
mounted  up  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  she  said  indig- 
nantly : 

"Mine!  how  unkind  to  have  kept  it  from  me  all  this 
time." 

At  any  other  time  her  caressing  touch  of  the  sense- 
less paper,  showing  how  it  was  hallowed  to  her  by  the 
familiar  handwriting,  would  have  sent  a  pang  to  his 
heart,  but  he  did  not  think  of  it. 

Laying  a  detaining  hand  on  hers,  as  she  would  have 
torn  the  envelope,  he  said  : 

"I^ot  so  unkind  as  you  think,  Mary;  I  have  that  to 
tell  you,  as  a  preparation  for  the  reading  of  that  letter, 
which  I  could  not  tell  in  the  presence  of  a  third  party  j" 
and  as  she  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  he  drew  her 
forward  to  the  grotto,  and  seating  her  on  one  of  the 
stone  seats,  said  : 

"God  knows,  Mary,  that  to  escape  this  office  I  would 
freely  have  laid  down  my  life,  but  I  could  not  send  you 
that  letter  without  coming  with  it  and  trying  to  temper 
the  wind  to  this  poor  shorn  lamb," 

She  looked  at  him  with  whitening  cheeks,  and  her 
lips  tried  to  form  a  query,  but  failed,  and  gave  it  up. 

He  went  on  :  '•  He  says,  Mary,  that  it  is  for  j^ou  he 
has  acted  throughout;  perhaps  you  may  think  him 
right  and  thank  him  for  it." 

Her  face  was  like  the  open  pages  of  a  book  ;  the 
changes  of  thought  and  feeling  flitting  over  it  as 
rapidly  and  legibly  as  the  eye  glances  over  a  thrilling 
story.  He  read  now,  "Ah,  for  me,  for  me!  it  is  easy 
to  forgive  if  it  is  for  love  of  me— true  loving  heart!" 

He  let  her  dwell  upon  this  for  a  moment ;   he  could 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  149 

not  bear  to  quench  the  little  rushlight  of  hope  which 
was  doing  its  best  to  illuminate  her  heart. 

Laying  his  hand  on  her  head— it  Avas  an  action 
familiar  to  her  from  her  childhood — he  said,  with  a  tone 
of  yearning  tenderness  in  his  voice  : 

^'  My  child  !  my  little  tender  loving  child  !  why  can- 
not you  bo  permitted  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  life  ? 
Must  you,  too,  go  into  the  shadow,  and  must  mine  be 
the  hand  to  cast  it  over  you  ?  Try  to  forget  every- 
thing in  our  intercourse  which  would  give  you  a  dis- 
trust of  me  now.  I  come  as  a  brother,  with  no  thought 
of  self,  believe  me,  but  with  only  my  care  for  your 
happiness  and  good.  " 

She  looked  frightened  and  puzzled,  but  smiled  up  at 
him,  saying  softly  :  "  There  is  some  dreadful  mistake, 
I  am  sure  ;  but  I  know  he  has  done  nothing  to  be  really 
ashamed  of.  I  could  not  live  now  if  3  had  not  that 
confidence  in  him." 

He  said  nothing  in  answer  to  this  but  turning  away 
his  head,  as  if  the  sight  of  her  changing  face  with  clouds 
of  feeling  flitting  over  it  would  be  more  than  he  could 
standi  he  went  on  talking  rapidly,  with  oft-impeded 
utterance. 

"  It  was  only  one  week  after  we  reached  Fort  Dela- 
ware, when  he  and  myself  were  sitting  together,  that 
an  old  man,  with  long  gray  beard  and  hair,  was  ushered 
into  the  room.  It  was  his  father.  Their  meeting  was 
affecting  beyond  description.  The  old  man  hung  around 
his  son's  neck,  weeping  and  entreating  that  he  v/ould 
return  home  with  him,  that  his  mother  was  near  to  death 
and  longed  for  her  eldest  and  best-beloved  son.  He 
showed  him  a  few  tremulous  words  written  by  her 
hand;  they  were   merely:  'Come  home,  Henry,    and 


150  WOMEy,   OR   CHRONICLES 

see  your  mother  before  she  dies. '  Still  he  remained 
firm.  Ho  could  only  go  by  taking  the  oath  of  allegi- 
ance, and  no'thing  would  ever  induce  him  to  do  that." 

Mary  breathed  as  if  a  sudden  cord  about  her  heart 
ha.d  been  loosened.  Captain  Williams,  keenly  alive  to 
every  movement  from  her,  glanced  at  her  for  a  second, 
and  then  again  averting  his  fiice  and  moving  farther 
from  her,  went  on : 

"  He,  that  old  gray-headed  man,  then  with  an  eloquence 
worthy  of  a  better  cause,  urged  other  considerations. 
He  pictured  the  home  which  awaited  him;  with  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  his  tastes  and  disposition  he  pan- 
dered to  all,  and  in  that  luxurious  and  happy  life,  you, 
Mary  Holcombe,  reigned  paramount.  Under  present 
circumstances  he  could  not  marry  you,  but  only  sign 
that  little  paper,  which  lay  there  temptingly  before  him, 
and  he  would  have  it  in  his  power  to  snatch  you  from  the 
life  of  trial  and  hardship  which  is  coming  on  the  women 
of  Yiro-inia,  and  place  you  in  an  unassailable  position 
of  happiness  and  comfort.  Here  for  the  first  time  the 
poison  began  to  work,  and  I,  terrified  at  the  indication, 
strove  to  administer  an  antidote.  I  represented  that 
you,  Mary,  would  rather  share  with  him  the  humblest, 
most  insecure  home,  would  rather  mourn  him  dead,  than 
connect  either  him  or  yourself  with  any  taint  of 
dishonor." 

"Dishonor!  "  exclaimed  Mary  Holcombe,  starting  to 
her  feet  and  confronting  him  with  flashing  eyes  and 
blazing  cheeks  :  "  how  dare  you,  Sir,  creep  here  like  the 
serpent  did  to  Eve,  breathing  your  foul  suspicious  to 
me?  How  dare  you  connect  the  word  dishonor  with 
his  most  honored  name?  Oh  that  I  should  ever  have 
claimed  this  man  my  friend !  that  for  my  whole  life  I 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  151 

sliould  b[lve  boon  thus  deceived !  Bat  I  see  througb  it 
all  now.  I  am  neither  blind,  deaf,  noi"  an  idiot,  thank 
God  !  I  know  your  aim  and  end  now  ;  and  let  me  tell 
you  the  result.  I  despise  your  insinuations;  they  have 
severed  every  tie  which  ever  existed  between  us,  and  if 
I  could  honor  and  love  Mr.  Dallam  more  than  I  have 
done  I  should  do  it  by  contrast.  There!  now  you  know 
how  I  reject  your  hints.  Dishonor !  and  Mr.  Dallam !" 
Mr.  Williams  staggered  and  reeled  under  these  blows 
like  a  storm-tossed  vessel,  but  riding  the  waves  gal- 
lantly too;  for  although  his  face  was  pale  and  con- 
vulsed with  grief,  the  gray  eye  which  met  that  of  the 
angry  girl  flinched  not,  but  shone  with  conscious  integ- 
rity. She  stood  like  a  gazelle  at  bay,  so  helpless  and 
weak,  but  still  unconquered,  clinging  to  the  life  of  her 
heart  in  spite  of  the  hounds.  She  had  nothing  to 
oppose  to  the  storm  but  the  fragility  and  slender- 
ness  of  the  reed,  whose  only  hope  of  safety  is  in  bend- 
ing low  before  the  storm  which  would  else  uproot  it 
and  toss  it  a  mere  wreck  aud  waif  on  the  bosom  of  the 
foaming  stream  of  life. 

"Mary,"  he  spoke  with  ineffable  tenderness,  though 
he  withdrew  further  away  from  her,  "  I  want  you  to 
know  that  whatever  hopes  I  may  have  entertained 
with  regard  to  you,  they  form  no  part  of  my  life  now: 
Had  I  continued  to  cherish  them  I  would  never  have 
undertaken  this  mission.  You  had  better  read  your 
letter.  I  have  managed  badly,  I  suppose,  but  I  could 
do  no  better,"  and  bending  so  as  to  avoid  the  branches 
which  hung  low  over  the  front  of  the  grotto,  he  with- 
drew from  her  sight,  but  remained  at  hand.  She,  left 
alone  with  all  this  maze  of  thoughts  bewildering  her 
brain,  opened  her  letter  aud  read  : 


152  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

"My  Dearest, —  If  I  bad  not  the  most  unwavering 
confidence  in  joxxv  love  and  faithfulness,  I  should 
tremble  in  writing  this  letter."  The  white  paper  flut- 
tered  from  her  band  to  her  feet,  and  her  breath  came 
in  gasps  from  between  her  purple  lips.  She  picked  it 
up  and  resumed  : 

"  But  I  know  you  too  well  to  have  any  fears. 
Your  simple  trustfulness  has  been  your  great  charm 
to  me,  and  I  feel  is  the  best  guarantee  which 
I  can  have  for  my  life-long  happiness.  Circum- 
stances have  occurred  which  render  my  return  to 
"Virginia  impracticable.  My  father  is  very  old  and 
requires  me,  and  my  mother's  health  is  so  bad  that 
I  ought  not  to  leave  her.  There  are  other  considera- 
tions also  which  I  confess  have  influenced  me.  Your 
father  refuses  to  allow  us  to  marry  so  long  as  the  war 
lasts,  and  perhaps  he  is  right  \  but  I  cannot  stand  the 
separation  from  you  any  longer.  The  continual  anxiety 
which  I  should  suffer  if  you  should  be  left  in  the 
enemy's  lines  would,  I  am  convinced,  run  me  mad. 
My  father  is  anxious  that  we  should  be  married  at 
once,  and  has  presented  me  with  a  house  near  his  own, 
with  everything  we  could  desire  to  minister  to  our 
comfort  and  happiness.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  con- 
stantly my  mind  dwells  upon  this  home,  of  which  you 
will  be  the  light,  and  where,  surrounded  by  our  books, 
music,  paintings,  and  having  each  other,  darling,  we 
may  promise  ourselves  as  much  happiness  as  earth 
ever  allots  to  her  children,  and  perhaps  we  may  after 
a  while  persuade  your  father  and  sister  to  follow  us  to 
our  quiet  retreat.  Of  course  I  never  could  raise  my 
hand  against  the  South,  our  South;  for  my  heart  is  as 
earnestly  hers  as  it  ever  was. 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  153 

«  Don't  let  Williams  persuade  you  that  there  is  any- 
thin"-  wrong  in  what  I  have  done.  Remember  you 
have  given  me  the  right  to  judge  for  you,  and  in  i:>o- 
litical  affairs  women  do  not  know  enough  to  judge  for 
themselves. 

"  I  shall  see  you  as  soon  as  the  way  is  open,  which  I 
think  will  be  very  soon  now,  and  hope  to  persuade  you 
to  return  with  me.     Until  then,  good-bye. 

''  With  the  fondest,  truest  affection,  yours, 

"  Henry  Dallam." 

It  might  have  been  three-quarters  of  an  hour  after 
that  Mr.  Williams,  leaning  against  an  old  tree  which 
had  been  half  torn  up  from  its  roots,  was  roused 
from  a  profound  reverie  by  hearing  his  name  jn'O- 
nounced.  Turning,  he  saw  her  waiting  for  him  at  the 
entrance  of  the  grotto.  Her  hat  was  pulled  down 
over  her  face,  and  as  he  walked  beside  her  he  saw 
that  she  staggered  in  her  gait,  went  forward  indeed 
blindl}^  Without  a  word  he  took  her  hand  and  placed 
it  on  his  arm.  The  only  thing  which  broke  the  still- 
ness of  the  walk  was  an  occasional  sound  from  the 
bowed  head,  half  sob,  half  sigh,  which,  coming  from 
her  heart,  touched  his.  When  they  reached  the  house 
she  turned  to  him,  and  without  raising  her  head,  said 
putting  her  hand  in  his: 

"  Mr.  Williams,  i)lease  forgive  me  ;  and  thank  you  for 
your  kindness  to  me.  And,  Mr.  Williams,  won't  you  tell 
Margie?     I  can't." 

"  What  shall  I  tell  her,  Mary?" 

"  Tell  her  everything  :  that  it  is  all  over,  and  wh}-," 
and  in  a  moment  she  was  gone. 

He  watched  her  slight  figure  going  slowly  up  the 
8* 


151  WOMEX,   OR   CHRONIGLES 

steps,  clinging  for  support  to  the  banisters,  and  lon.L^orl 
to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  comfort  her,  but  —  "better 
Dot!  better  not!"  aud  he  turned  towards  the  library 
to  look  for  Margie. 

Mar}^  was  not  seen  again  that  evening,  though  Mrs. 
3Iurra3^  went  to  her  door  and  tried  to  obtain  an  entrance, 
but  in  vain  ;  she  answered  through  the  closed  door : 

*'  I  don't  want  to  see  any  one  now,  Margie  ;  please  let 
me  alone,  and  attend  to  supper  for  me." 

But  long  after  everj'body  had  retired  Margie  was 
awakened  by  a  knock  at  her  door.  Opening  it,  she  found 
a  white  figure  standing  without,  and  Marj^'s  arms  were 
around  her  neck  and  her  tears  on  her  cheek. 

''  Margie,  won't  you  let  me  sleep  with  you  ?  it  is  so 
lonely  and  dark  by  myself,  and  I  can't  sleep."  And  so 
the  two  sisters  lay  down  side  by  side  as  they  had  done 
in  the  da^'S  of  their  childhood,  Margie's  arms  around  the 
shivering  form  of  her  sister.  Once  she  attempted  con- 
solation by  words,  telling  her  that  it  was  fortunate 
that  his  lack  of  firm  principles  had  been  discovered  in 
time  to  prevent  her  life-long  misery.  But  it  was  like 
applying  a  blister  to  a  sore,  and  Margie  knew  it  when 
Mary's  cold  hands  crept  into  hers,  and  she  said,  "  Don't 
talk  about  it,  please,  Margie;  I  know  it  all,  but  I  don't 
believe  I  can  stand  it." 


OF  THE  LATE   ^YAU.  155 


HAPTER   Xy. 

"Hail  to  the  Chief  who  in  triumph  advances  !  " — Scott. 

It  is  not  my  purpose,  during  the  progress  of  this 
story,  to  touch  upon  the  strategy  of  the  war  to  any 
great  extent,  except  so  far  as  it  is  necessary  to  keep 
bright  the  links  by  which  my  chronicles  hang  together. 
For  this  purpose  solely  I  must  dwell  a  little  more  at 
length  upon  the  events  which  led  to  the  battle  of  "Win- 
chester, which  followed  close  upon  the  heels  of  the 
battle  of  Kernstown. 

Eichmond  was  menaced  on  the  side  of  the  Penin- 
sula by  the  immense  army  of  General  McClellan,  while 
McDowell  approached  from  Fredericksburg  with  thirty 
thousand  men.  For  these  two  to  form  a  junction  was 
to  beleaguer  the  capital  and  seal  its  fate.  It  was 
necessary  to  create  a  diversion,  and  General  Jackson  was 
selected  for  this  purpose.  His  army  was  reinforced  by 
Ewell  and  General  Edward  Johnson,  and  he  was  di- 
rected to  conduct  a  stirring  campaign  in  the  Valley. 
His  force  consisted  of  about  twelve  thousand  men,  and 
opposed  to  him  he  had  Fremont's  force  of  fifteen  thou- 
sand under  Mih'oy  and  Schenck,  at  two  places  called 
McDowell  and  Franklin,  in  West  Virginia,  and  Banks 
with  fifteen  thousand  at  Harrisonburg  and  "Win- 
chester. Detaching  General  Johnson,  ho  sent  him 
flying  after  Milroy  and  Schenck,  both  of  whom  were 
utU'ily  routed.  Then  Ewell  proceeded  to  perform  the 
like  ^service  for  Banks,  but  found  that  General  was  re- 


156  WOMEN,  OR  CHROXICLES 

treating  on  Strausburg.  Following  him  down  the 
Shenandoah  Yalley,  he  was  joined  at  New  Market  by 
General  Jackson,  who,  instead  of  continuing  with  him, 
dashed  through  a  gap  in  the  mountain,  at  that  place, 
into  the  Massanuttan  Yalley )  and  scarcely  had  General 
Banks  reached  Strausburg  and  concentrated  his  gaze 
upon  General  Ewell,  who  menaced  him  in  front,  when 
he  was  startled  by  the  thunder  of  General  Jackson's 
guns  at  Front  Eoyal,  a  little  town  at  the  foot  of  the 
Massanuttan  Mountain,  on  a  line  with  Strausburg,  and 
only  ten  miles  off.  His  situation  was  perilous  in  the  ex- 
treme. If  General  Jackson  succeeded  in  throwing  his 
force  between  him  and  Winchester,  he  would  be  en- 
closed between  the  two  bodies  of  troops,  and  forced  to 
surrender;  so  making  all  the  haste  he  could,  he 
dashed  down  the  turnpike  towards  Winchester.  JSTor 
had  he  any  time  to  lose;  for  General  Jackson  suc- 
ceeded in  cutting  his  wagon-train  in  two,  capturing 
half  of  it,  besides  taking  a  considerable  number  of 
prisoners. 

Of  these  to  them  deeply  interesting  events,  the 
people  of  Winchester  were  in  profound  ignorance. 
They  had  so  often  been  cheated  by  Dame  Eumor  that 
they  dubbed  her  a  lying  jade,  and  refused  to  credit  her 
reports.  But  when  the  flying  army  of  General  Banks 
dashed  into  the  town  on  the  afternoon  of  the  23d  of 
May,  they  knew  there  must  be  some  Confederate  force 
in  the  neighborhood.  Indeed,  when  pressed  upon  the 
subject,  the  Yankees  admitted  that  they  had  encoun- 
tered Ewell ;  but  as  he  had  only  five  thousand  men, 
he  could  not  venture  to  encounter  the  force  collected 
at  Winchester. 

The  town  x)rescnted  a  strange  picture  of  confusion 


OF  THE  LATE  WAIl  157 

and  excitement.  The  streets  were  blocked  up  with 
wagons,  which,  rushing  in  pell-mell,  had  crowded  one 
on  the  other  until  it  required  no  little  skill  to  extri- 
cate  them.  Officers  covered  with  dust,  the  perspira- 
tion pouring  from  their  faces,  and  their  horses  bearing 
the  marks  of  the  stampede,  were  everywhere  visible. 
All  faces  gathered  blackness  except  those  of  the  citi- 
zens, which  brightened  in  like  proportion,  though  they 
dared  not  make  any  public  demonstration  of  their  re- 
newed hopes.  They  found  that  as  the  excitement 
increased,  indeed,  they  were  obliged  to  retire  to 
their  houses,  as  in  one  or  two  cases  the  common  sol- 
diers resented  even  their  smiles. 

The  night  was  one  long  to  be  remembered.  The 
sound  of  the  locomotive  breaking  throuo-h  the  dark- 

O  CD 

ness  mingled  with  the  confused  noise  of  women  en- 
treating to  be  permitted  to  leave  before  the  fight,  com- 
panies of  cavalry  dashing  through  the  town,  and  artil- 
lery companies  making  their  way  to  the  front,  while  a 
continuous  stream  of  army  wagons,  taking  oif  such 
stores  as  could  be  hastily  collected  in  the  direction  of 
Martinsburg,  filled  the  road. 

There  were  so  few  men  left  in  the  town  amongst  the 
citizens  that  the  females  in  this  time  of  peculiar  ex- 
citement stood  greatly  in  need  of  protection.  In  the 
power  of  a  hostile  force,  smarting  under  an  ignominious 
defeat,  and  expecting  to  join  battle  again  in  the  morn- 
ing, there  was  of  course  a  lack  of  military  discipline, 
a  recklessness,  which  rendered  the  situation  of  these 
helpless  non-combatants  almost  desperate.  This  was 
particularly  the  case  with  the  three  ladies  on  Fort 
Ilill,  as  their  house  stood  somewhat  isolated,  at  the 
entrance  of  the  town,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  encamp- 


158  WOMBX,   OB   CUROXICLES 

ments  of  the  soldiers.  It  is  no  wonder  that  their 
hearts  grew  darker  with  the  darkness,  and  they  looked 
forward  to  the  long  night  with  inexpressible  dread. 
This  reached  a  point  of  agony  when  about  ten  o'clock 
a  regiment  of  calvary  surrounded  the  house,  and  tying 
their  horses  to  the  palings  around  the  grounds,  pro- 
ceeded to  make  themselves  at  home  in  the  yard  and 
lower  part  of  the  building.  Poor  Mrs.  Mason  fell  on 
her  knees  and  committed  them  in  their  weakness  and 
helplessness  to  God.  He  who  shut  the  mouths  of  the 
lions  and  delivered  Ilis  children  from  the  fiery  furnace 
could  and  would  care  for  them  ;  and  the  result  justi- 
fied her  faith  j  for  although  this  mass  of  lawless  sol- 
diery forcibly  entered  the  house  and  took  possession, 
although  these  helpless  females  were  utterly  in  their 
power,  with  not  even  a  locked  door  between  them, 
they  were  perfectly  unmolested.  Afraid  to  call  atten- 
tion to  their  presence  by  a  light,  they  sat  up  in  the 
middle  of  a  bed  together  in  the  darkness  during  the 
entire  night,  every  now  and  then  drawing  more  closely 
together  as  the  clanking  of  the  sabres  below  renewed 
their  consciousness  of  danger ;  and  as  the  blackness 
of  darkness  changed  to  the  gray  tint  of  early  morn- 
ing, they  looked  curiously  into  each  other's  faces  to  see 
if  the  horrors  of  the  night  had  not  wrought  some 
dreadful  change  in  them.  With  the  dawning  of  the 
day  their  cavalry  guests  mounted  and  rode  ofi",  and  the 
three  watchers  sunk  down  exhausted ;  but  they  were 
scarce  relieved  from  the  terror  which  for  so  many 
hours  had  harassed  them,  when  the  sound  of  cannon- 
ading broke  upon  their  ears,  and  hastily  dressing,  they 
rushed  to  the  top  of  the  house  to  see  what  was  goiug 
on.     The  scene  beggars  description.      There   on   one 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  159 

side  was  tho  life  and  death  contest  raging  fiercely, 
while  the  streets  of  the  town  and  the  roads  leading  out 
of  it  were  already  full  of  fugitives  —  negroes,  with  great 
bundles  on  their  heads  and  dragging  children  by  the 
hands.  Ilere  would  be  a  child  crying  for  its  mother, 
and  next  a  mother  wringing  her  hands  over  the  loss  of 
her  child.  Stragglers  from  the  army  fled  madly  away.- 
Every  minute  the  panic  increased,  and  when  the  Con- 
federates dashed  over  the  hill  and  down  into  the  town 
with  bayonets  drawn,  the  rout  became  universal  — 
men  with  paUid  faces  tearing  off  whatever  impeded  their 
rapid  progress,  until  the  road  was  carpeted  with  knap- 
sacks and  clothing  of  every  kind.  Here  came  a  horse 
fljnng  in  spite  of  the  burden  of  three  he  bore ; 
next  a  j)iece  of  artillery  covered  with  men;  over- 
loaded, the  wheel  came  off,  and  cutting  the  traces  of 
the  horses,  up  the  men  mounted  and  off  again,  whilst 
those  who  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  no  such 
mode  of  locomotion,  made  the  best  use  of  their  heels 
they  could. 

"  Oh,  Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  'Hhis  is  horrible  !  " 
'•Dreadful  indeed,'*  was  the  answer;  ''only  see  the 
white  faces  of  the  men!  And  this  is  a  panic  !  God  defend 
us  from  ever  witnessing  another,  particularly  one  in 
which  our  own  men  are  stricken." 

But  now  the  gray  begins  to  mingle  with  the  blue  in 
the  distance ;  they  are  fighting  through  the  streets. 
Writhing  figures  and  still  figures  begin  to  clog  the 
pavements.  Every  now  and  then  a  flying  figure  would 
fall,  and  the  pursuer  stopping,  would  draw  a  cover  over 
the  face  of  that  dead  whom  he  himself  had  made  dead. 
At  last  a  company  of  infantry,  almost  entire  and  in 
better  order  than  any  who  had  preceded  them,  came 


160  WOMEy,   OB   CHRONICLES 

up  the  street,  but  as  they  reached  the  corner  they 
huddled  together  like  sheep.  Danger  here,  danger 
there,  danger  menacing  in  every  direction;  they 
crowded  one  upon  another,  but  none  would  go  forward, 
until  some  oflScers,  dashing  up  the  hill  with  draw^n 
swords  in  hand,  drove  them  before  them  until  they 
reached  the  open  country,  and  then  they  fled  rapidly 
enough. 

"Look,"  said  Mrs  Mason,  pointing  to  the  street 
directly  below^  them.  Horror!  there  were  about 
a  dozen  warehouses  which  had  been  used  for  com- 
missary stores,  and  now  the  lurid  flames  were  burstiniij 
from  the  roofs  of  all.  In  another  moment  the  heat 
of  the  flames  reached  them  where  they  stood,  and 
black  masses  of  smoke  enveloping  the  mass  of  human 
beings,  rendered  more  gloomy  the  gloomy  scene.  But 
the  fugitives  took  no  heed  of  the  fire ;  they  Avere  only 
intent  on  escaping  from  the  shot  and  shell  which  every 
moment  came  nearer. 

^'Let  us  go  down,"  said  Mrs.  Mason.  "I  have  seen 
three  men  fall  on  our  pavement ;  we  may  be  of  some 
use."  They  were  but  a  moment  in  following  this  sug- 
gestion, another  in  making  up  their  minds  to  open  the 
front  door;  but  they  started  back,  to  find  it  full  of  men. 

"  The  uniform,  the  gray !  "  said  Ellen.  ''  Are  you  the 
Confederates,  really  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.  Miss,"  said  one  of  the  men,  laughing  ;  ''  I 
hope  you  don't  take  us  for  nothin'  else.  But  you  ain't 
sorry,  is  you?"  for  Ellen  was  crying  heartily. 

''General  Jackson!  GeneralJackson ! "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Mason,  as  she  rushed  out  of  the  house  and  almost 
threw  herself  under  his  horse's  feet. 

Yes,  there  ho  w^as  indeed,  with  his  face  beaming  with 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  161 

the  excitement  and  gratification  at  his  reception,  with 
his  hat  in  hand,  returning  the  greetings  from  the 
crowds  who  tlironged  the  streets  and  the  houses. 

"  Why,  iS^ell !  how  d'ye  do  ?  "  and  Ellen  found  herself 
seized  in  the  arms  of  a  great  brown  animal,  boasting  a 
beard  and  covered  with  dust.     It  was  John  Holcombe. 

"  j\ly  dear  George,"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph,  throwing 
herself  into  the  arms  of  her  brother.  "  Are  all  safe  ?  is 
Mr.  Eandolph  coming?  " 

"All  safe  I  think,  thank  God!  "  said  Mr.  Holcombe. 
"  So  all  your  negroes  have  left  you.  Ungrateful  crea- 
tures !  I  did  not  believe  they  would." 

Mrs.  Mason  was  already  in  the  street  dressing  wounds, 
and  the  pavement  was  spotted  with  blood. 

"  Look  here,  do  you  see  that  the  town  is  on  fire  ?  " 
said  a  young  man  to  Ellen  Eandolph. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  said  ;  "  they  set  it  on  fire  as  they  left." 

"  Where  is  the  powder  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Powder !''  she  ejaculated,  with  whitening  cheek. 
"  There  I  "  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  fire.  She 
remembered  having  heard  a  few  days  before  that  Gen- 
eral Banks  had  been  remonstrated  with  about  endan- 
gering the  town  by  keeping  the  magazine  in  it.  The 
news  spread  like  wildfire,  and  a  crowd  soon  rushed  off 
to  the  conflagration  to  try  to  avert  this  terrible  catas- 
trophe. They  were  just  in  time  ;  ten  minutes  later  and 
rejoicing  would  have  been  turned  into  mourning,  as 
that  mass  of  human  beings  would  have  been  blown  to 
pieces. 

Soon  the  ladies  discovered  the  fact  that  the  poor  fel- 
lows were  almost  starved,  and  every  house  emptied  it- 
self into  the  streets,  so  far  as  its  larder  was  concerned 
at  any  rate.     jS'othing  was  too  good  for  the  soldiers ; 


162  WOMEN,   on  CHRONICLES 

buckets  of  milk  and  baskets  of  bread  and  meat  were 
handed  amongst  the  crowd.  The  pursuit  was  still  con- 
tinued, and  the  men  had  to  snatch  food  as  they  passed 
along. 

''Ah,  Captain  Williams,  welcome  to  Winchester!" 
said  Ellen,  extending  both  hands  to  that  gentleman  as 
he  approached  her.-  "I  must  say  you  are  all  the  more 
welcome  for  not  being  a  cousin ;  for  1  have  kissed  a 
thousand  dirty  boys,  more  or  less,  this  morning,  and 
am  perfectly  choked  with  the  dust.'* 

'=  I  wouldn't  do  it,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  I  might  refuse  at  another  time,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  but 
to-day  cousins  are  privileged." 

"Aunt  Annie,"  said  Dr.  George  Holcombe,  after  re- 
ceiving and  giving  a  joyful  greeting  all  around,  "  if  you 
and  Aunt  Mary  want  really  to  be  of  use,  get  your  bon- 
nets and  go  out  to  the  battle-field  ;  that  is  if  you  think 
you  have  nerve  to  stand  the  sad  sights  which  will 
meet  you  there." 

Of  course  they  went  at  once,  having  supplied  them- 
selves with  lint,  bandages,  and  food  for  the  poor  suf- 
ferers. 

Oh  the  sights  and  sounds  that  met  them  upon  that 
dismal  battle-field  !  Misery  unmitigated  even  by  the 
triumph.  What  description  was  ever  adequate  to  con- 
vey an  idea  of  its  horrors  ?  Language"  fails,  or  only 
repeats  again  and  again,  Death  !  death  !  death !  death 
dreadful!  death  dire!  The  conflict  between  man  and 
his  brother  has  ceased,  but  in  its  place  on  the  same 
field  two  great  kings  strive  for  the  mastery ;  Life  and 
Death  are  fighting  it  out  through  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  plain,  the  one  triumphing  by  groans, 
shrieks,  prayers  and  imprecations,  and  the  other  by  a 


OF  THE  LATE  WAK  1.63 

silence  more  dreadful  still.  Each  of  the  royal  contest- 
ants is  clad  in  right  royal  crimson,  and  the  royal  hue 
is  pervading  in  everything  around.  The  grass,  emulat- 
ing tbe  fashion,  has  covered  over  her  fresh  green  robe 
with  it.  The  flowers,  leaving  the  variety  which 
Nature  loves,  are  all  of  the  same  hue ;  and  even  the 
bird  of  the  air,  attracted  by  the  strange  sight,  dipping 
down  to  earth  in  curious  mood,  wings  its  flight  back  to 
the  clouds  with  feathers  tipped  with  red. 

The  two  ladies  stood  horror-struck  at  the  sight  which 
met  their  eyes.  They  were  standing  at  the  foot  of  a 
hill  at  the  entrance  of  the  town  where  the  fiercest 
struggle  had  been  made.  They  remembered  that  it 
was  here  they  had  seen  the  bayonet-charge  of  the 
morning  which  had  virtually  ended  the  battle;  and 
the  ground  from  whore  they  stood  up  to  the  top  of  the 
hill  was  almost  covered  with  figures,  men  and  horses 
in  close  com^^anionship,  uniforms  of  blue  and  gray 
mingling  upon  their  vision,  a  dreadful  companionship 
in  sufi'ering  and  death.  Here  were  two  men,  a  Con- 
federate and  a  Federal,  locked  together,  motionless^ 
with  arms  twined  the  one  around  the  other.  The 
strange  sight  attracted  their  notice,  and  it  required  no 
more  than  the  ordinary  amount  of  keenness  to  read 
the  story.  Beside  them,  covered  with  blood,  lay  a 
bayonet  and  a  sword,  and  beneath  the  shoulder  of  the 
Federal  was  a  gash  which  would  have  fitted  the  point 
of  the  first-named  weapon.  With  their  mind's  eye 
they  saw  the  wound  given  ;  but  death  did  not  at  once 
ensue.  Turning  upon  his  opponent,  sword  in  hand,  so 
suddenly  as  to  deprive  him  of  his  weapon,  he  had 
closed  with  him  in  the  death-struggle.  There  must 
have  been  a  wonderful  amount  of  stx-ength  left  in  the 


164  ]V0MJ■:^\  on  curonicles 

wounded  man,  from  the  power  with  which  his  short 
sword  liad  been  sent  into  the  bosom  of  his  enemy,  not 
once,  but  four  or  five  times;  and  their  blood  had 
gushed  out,  mingling  in  one  stream  and  lying  in  one 
puddle  under  them.  Together  their  lives  had  been 
rendered  up,  and  together  they  went  to  the  bar  of  God 
to  give  an  account  of  their  deeds. 

But  dreadful  as  were  the  stories  told  by  the  dead, 
they  were  not  to  be  compared  with  the  living  agony 
which  writhed  and  groaned  and  shrieked  around  them, 
some  with  hands  extended  either  towards  them,  or  with 
religious  instinct  towards  heaven. 

^' For  God's  sake,  ladies  !  a  drop  of  water,"  and  they 
turned  and  saw  a  young  boy  terribly  mutilated  by  a 
fragment  of  a  shell  which  had  torn  away  one  side  of 
his  face,  leaving  the  white  bones  and  teeth  exposed. 
Sick  with  horror,  Mrs.  Mason  knelt  beside  him,  and 
turned  away  her  head  that  she  might  not  see  him. 
drink. 

The  townspeople  now  began  to  join  them  in  great 
numbers  with  ambulances,  carriages,  &c.,  and  one  by 
one  the  living  were  removed,  while  the  ladies  went 
from  place  to  place  with  noble  courage,  looking  out 
new  objects  of  care. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph, 
bending  over  a  poor  groaning  man. 

"Ah,  Madam!  if  you  could  only  put  something  soft 
under  my  leg.  This  ground  is  killing  me ;  surely  no 
ground  ever  was  so  hard  before." 

There  were  noble  instances  of  self-forgetfulness  too 
which  touched  them  much. 

"Xcver  mind  me,"  said  one  badly  wounded  boy,  try- 
in  o-  to  smile,  "  I  can  wait  very  well;  but  please  attend 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR 


1G5 


to  these  poor  follows  around.  And,  Madam,  if  you  would 
only  ask  some  one  to  como  here  and  shoot  this  horse. 
I  hate  to  SCO  a  dumb  animal  suffer,  and  he  has  been  a 
good  horse  to  mo,"  and  the  tear,  which  his  own  suffer- 
ing had  no  power  to  bring,  trembled  in  his  blue  eye. 

Eut  why  dwell  upon  such  horrors?  Human  nature 
shrinks  and  sickens  at  their  narration,  and  yet  for 
four  long  years  did  just  such  scenes  stain  and  bJacken 
our  fair  fields,  until  almost  every  foot  of  ground  in 
this  smiling  valley  had  been  bathed  in  the  life-blood 
which  flowed  from  the  veins  of  her  sons. 

Oh!  how  can  Nature  view  scenes  like  these  with 
such  unmoved  serenity,  looking  tearlessly  down  with 
her  great  burning  eye,  its  beams  darting  in  and  danc- 
ing fantastically  over  the  dead  and  dying,  and  by  their 
brightness  making  more  ghastly  the  ghastly  picture. 
The  sun  shines  on  and  the  birds  try  to  drown  the  dis- 
mal sounds  with  a  perfect  babel  of  music;  but  at  last 
day  wears  itself  away,  and  the  sun  and  the  birds  leave 
a  solemn  stillness  upon  all  things.  Merciful  night  draws 
the  curtain,  and  then  arises  the  calm  still  moon  like  a 
loving  nurse  to  keep  the  night-watch  over  the  multitu- 
dinous  couch,  shedding  its  mild  beams  like  soothing 
words,  or  a  soft  cool  hand  upon  a  fevered  brow;  and 
the  stars  wink  and  blink  at  each  other,  trying  to  wake 
themselves  from  this  fearful  dream  of  man's  passion 
and  depravity. 

Mrs.  Mason  and  Mrs.  Eandolph  stayed  upon  the  field 
until  the  last  living  man  was  removed,  which  was  not 
accomplished  until  quite  a  late  hour;  and  then  they 
walked  home  through  the  moonlight,  saddened  to  the 
heart,  and  crying  out:  "How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and 
true  ?  " 


166  WOME^',  OR  CHRONICLES 


CHAPTEK    XYI. 

'"Tis  strange,  but  true  ;  for  truth  is  always  strange, 
Stranger  than  fiction." — Byron. 

"  Well,  Captain  Murraj-,  what  news  ? "  said  Mr. 
Williams,  meeting  that  gentleman  in  Mr.  Randolph's 
parlor  a  few  days  after  the  taking  of  Winchester. 

"Oh,  everything  looks  badly;  at  least  I  would  think 
so,  except  that  General  Jackson  is  in  fine  spirits.  Of 
course  he  must  have  more  reliahle  information  than  I, 
but  I  declare,  to  me  our  case  looks  almost  desperate. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Fremont  is  advancing  down 
the  Yalley  in  fall  forc'e  with  Milroy  and  Schenck  ;  and 
Shields,  who  two  days  ago  was  at  Fredericksburg,  has 
turned  in  this  direction  with  all  of  his  command;  he  is 
between  Front  Eoyal  and  Warrenton  now,  and  then 
there  is  a  large  force  on  the  Maryland  side  opposite 
Harper's  Ferry.  Kow,  how  we  are  to  get  out  I  can't  see 
for  my  life.  I  can  see  the  object  of  it  all  very  plainly, 
and  the  success,  as  far  as  that  is  concerned.  It  does 
relieve  and  save  Eichmond,  there  is  no  doubt,  but  Jack- 
son cannot  surely  intend  to  allow  himself  to  be  captured. 
I  went  to  him  to-day,  and  although,  even  knowing  him 
as  well  as  I  do,  I  would  not  venture  to  ask  him  any 
questions,  I  put  it  in  the  form  of  giving  rather  than 
asking  information. 

'•'General,'  I  said,  'I  suppose  there  is  no  doubt  of 
Fremont's  advance  down  the  Valley?' 

'"Not  the  least,'  he  said,  'not  the  least;  he  is  ad- 
vancing very  rapidly.' 


OF  Tlili]  LATE  WAR.  1(37 

"'And/  said  I,  'Shields  is  coming  across  to  Front 
Koyal?' 

"  '  Yes,  to  Front  Eoyal,  undoubtedly/  and  he  actually 
rubbed  his  hands  Avith  delight.  'All  right,  sir,  he  is 
undoubtedly  coming  across  to  Front  Eoyal.' 

"  '  And,'  continued  I,  my  wonder  growing,  '  they  say 
there  is  a  hxrge  force  on  the  Maryland  Heights.' 

'''Quite  large,  quite  large;  my  Stonewall  Brigade 
are  watch  in  a:  them.' 

'"And,  General,'  I  added,  in  my  bewilderment,  'we 
are  here ! ' 

"  '  Oh  yes.  Captain,'  he  said,  actually  laughing,  '  there 
is  no  doubt  of  that  fact  at  all;  we  are  here.' 

"  :^row,  can  any  wise  man  or  woman  tell  me  what  it 
means?"  said  Captain  Murray. 

Everybody  laughed,  but  no  one  ventured  the  required 
information. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Mr. 
Williams,  "but  I  know  Old  Jack  does ;  and  I  would  a 
great  deal  rather  he  would  think  for  me  in  these 
matters  than  to  do  it  for  myself." 

"Oh  yes,  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  him;  but  for 
my  life  I  cannot  get  out  of  my  habit  of  wondering," 
said  Captain  Murray. 

"  Well,  I  am  only  afraid  it  will  end  in  our  being 
left  again,"  said  Ellen  Eandolph,  dejectedly  ;  "  and  I  feel 
as  if  I  could  not  stand  that." 

"  That  is  the  least  evil  to  be  apprehended,"  said  Mrs. 
Randolph;  "I  would  be  thankful  if  they  get  out  safe, 
without  a  fight." 

"There  is  one  thing  to  be  glad  of  in  it  all,  at  any 
rate,"  said  Captain  Murray ;  "  we  have  captured  enough 
stores  here  to  pay  all  the  expenses  of  the  expedition, 


168  WOMEN,   OR   CHRONICLES 

and  more.     How   do    your  patients   come    on,    Mrs. 
Mason?"  turning  as  he  spoke  to  Mrs.  Mason. 

"  Young  Gatcman  is  doing  very  well,"  she  said,  ^'  his 
is  only  a  flesh  wound ;  hut  Carter  not  bo  well,  he  has 
fever,  which  makes  mo  uneasy  about  him." 

''And  the  Yankee?" 

''Oh,  poor  fellow,  he  is  very  ill;  his  delirium  has 
been  more  violent  ever  since  our  men  came  in.  I  do 
not  believe  he  will  ever  be  well." 

''  This  is  a  curious  state  of  things,"  said  Mr.  Williams; 
"two  Confederates  and  a  Yankee  in  the  same  house, 
with  the  same  nurses.  What  ever  induced  you  to 
undertake  the  care  of  the  Yankee?" 

"  It  speaks  well  for  their  patriotism,  does  it  not  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Murray,  laughing.  "  We  see  how  they  do  ;  as  soon 
as  our  backs  are  turned  they  go  over  to  the  enemy, 
and  even  open  a  hospital  for  his  sick!  " 

Ellen  did  not  join  in  the  laugh  which  followed.  She 
looked  seriously  teased,  while  Mrs.  Mason  answered : 

'•  Well,  for  the  matter  of  that  I  should  nurse  the 
Federal  just  as  I  Avouldmy  own  men;  there  is  but  little 
difference  to  me  when  they  are  suffering.  But  this 
poor  young  fellow  interests  me  deeply.  You  know 
General  Shields  took  our  house  here  for  his  headquar- 
ters for  about  a  week  during  his  stay  here  but — well, 
he  did  not  like  it  altogether,  and  much  to  our  relief  he 
went  away  ;  but  this  young  man  was  sick  at  the  time, 
and  he  was  left  here  with  his  nurse,  who  after  a  few 
days  ran  off  with  all  of  his  money  and  valuables.  Since 
then  the  duty  of  nursing  him  has  devolved  upon  us, 
and  I  have  actually  become  very  much  interested  in 
him ;  but  I  fear  our  care  will  not  be  rewarded  by  his 
recovery." 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  169 

*'Well,  I  know  you  will  have  j^our  reward,"  said 
Mr.  Williams ;  "  but  I  don't  think  I  could  do  it." 

As  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  stay  our  footsteps  over 
this  portion  of  our  story,  but  to  pass  on  to  other  scenes, 
we  will  simply  glance  at  the  movements  of  the  Con- 
federates, which  seem  to  be  involved  in  such  mystery. 

Of  all  the  eventful  and  wonderful  history  of  G-eneral 
Jackson,  there  is  probably  no  episode  which  is  so  thrill- 
ing as  this  expedition  up  and  down  the  Yalley  of  Vir- 
ginia. To  touch  it  with  fiction  seems  to  be  sacrilege, 
the  truth  being  too  replete  with  interest  to  require  any 
addition. 

He  remained  in  Winchester  just  one  week,  watching 
with  unflinching  eye  the  gathering  forces  around  him  ; 
even  keeping  the  Stonewall  Brigade  at  Harper's  Ferry 
in  order  to  deceive  the  enemy  at  that  point  with  the 
idea  that  he  was  falling  into  the  trap  laid  for  him. 
General  Ashby  in  the  meantime  proved  a  valuable  aux- 
iliary ;  always  in  the  saddle,  he,  with  his  most  carefully 
picked  men,  reconnoitered  the  whole  country  in  every 
direction,  and  not  a  movement  was  made  by  the  gath- 
ering forces  which  was  not  reported  at  once  to  the  com- 
manding General.  At  last  the  moment  for  action  ar- 
rived. The  brigade  at  Harper's  Ferry  were  ordered  to 
move  towards  Winchester  with  the  greatest  expedi' 
tion  and  secrecy.  The  sentinels  were  left  at  their 
posts,  so  that  the  watching  enemy  across  the  river 
might  not  suspect  their  departure  ;  and  so  admirable 
was  the  success  of"  this  move  that  it  had  been  made 
twenty-four  hours  before  it  was  discovered.  Again 
did  the  Winchester  people  witness  their  own  de- 
sertion by  their  friends  with  heavy  hearts,  to  which 
was  added  the  more  than  ordinary  anxiety  for  the 
9 


170  WOMB^\   OR  CUUOXICLES 

safety  of  the  army.  Battalion  after  battalion  marched 
through  the  town,  exchanging  farewells  as  they  passed 
through  the  streets.  The  Stonewall  Brigade  brought 
up  the  rear  at  double-quick,  in  spite  of  their  long 
march  from  Harper's  Ferry.  Night  had  already  flillcn 
when  they  left. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  dead  quiet  which  reigned 
when  the  inhabitants  looked  out  upon  the  deserted 
streets  the  next  morning,  a  quiet  rendered  more  strik- 
ing from  the  busy  enjoyment  of  the  past  week,  when 
every  one  had  given  himself  up  to  the  happiness  of 
the  hour. 

During  the  whole  day  the  only  sound  which  broke 
upon  the  ear  was  the  distant  firing  on  the  Yalley  road, 
confirming  their  fears  that  this  exit  had  not  been  unat- 
tended with  danger. 

The  two  armies  of  Shields  and  Fremont,  the  one  ap- 
proaching from  the  east  and  the  other  from  the  west, 
were  not  more  than  half  a  day's  journey  apart,  Shields 
being  at  Front  Royal  and  Fremont  a  short  distance 
to  the  west  of  Strausburg.  General  Jackson  so  timed 
his  retreat  as  to  slip  in  between  the  two,  leaving  them 
to  follow  him  in  a  mad  chase  instead  of  forming  a 
junction.  Shields  at  once  dashed  down  the  Massa- 
nuttan  Yalley,  rightly  conjecturing  that  Jackson  would 
cross  the  Shenandoah  river  at  Port  Eepublic  bridge — it 
being  indeed  the  only  point  which  afforded  him  an  exit 
from  his  present  perilous  situation — while  Fremont  fol- 
lowed up  the  Shenandoah  Yalley,  about  half  a  day  be- 
hind Jackson. 

The  escaping  army  reached  Harrisonburg  in  the 
morning,  and  the  pursuing  in  the  afternoon.  Diverg- 
ing from   the  Shenandoah   Yalley  at  Harrisonburg, 


OF  THE  LATE  WAIt,  171 

Jackson  moved  across  to  Port  Bcpablic.     But  Instead 
of  making  the  best  of  his  way  out  of  the  danger,  ho 
deliberately  stopped  ;  and  when  Fremont  came  up  with 
him  at  Cross  Keys,  about  five  miles  from  Port  Re- 
public,  he  found  him  waiting  for  him,  and  here  a  bloody 
battle  was  fought,  resulting  in  a  victory  for  the  Confedc- 
rates,  but  in  which  battle  fell  the  Yalley  hero,  General 
Turner  Ashby,  the    greatest  loss    General    Jackson 
could  probably  have  sustained.    Night  closed  upon  the 
fic^hting  troops,  and  Fremont  confidently  expecting  the 
battle  S)  be  renewed  in  the  morning,  allowed  his  tired 
men  to  rest  on  their  arms.    Not  so  with  General  Jack- 
son.     As  soon  as  the  darkness  was  sufficiently  dense  to 
conceal  his  movements  he  was  up  and  away,  and  the 
first  news  which  General  Fremont  had  of  his  absence 
was  the  sound  of  his  guns  at  Port  Eepublic.     Let  hiin 
hurry  as  he  would  now  ho  only  arrived  m  time  to 
witness  the  defeat  of  Shields,  and  too  late  to  afford  him 
any  assistance,  as  the  Confederate  army  was  already 
out  of  reach,  and  could  be  seen  winding  up  the  Yalley 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  lighted  by  the  flames 
of  the  burning  bridge,  the  destruction  of  which  effectu- 
ally  prevented  pursuit. 


172  WOMEN,  OR  CEBONICLES 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 

.  "The  end  must  j ustify  the  means." — Prior, 

Before  we  see  Kose  Hill  again  it  has  tasted  a  new 
experience  of  the  war;  for  after  the  departure  of  Jack- 
son from  the  Yaliey  left  the  whole  country  unprotected, 
foraging  parties  spread  themselves  over  the  entire 
country,  and  the  citizens  were  subjected  to  terrible  an- 
noyances,  even  exceeding  those  experienced  in  the 
towns,  as  there  was  of  course  a  necessary  discipline 
amongst  the  troops  at  a  post  which  could  not  be  ex- 
tended to  these  bands  of  cavalry,  sent  out  for  the  pur- 
pose  of  collecting  provisions,  and  accomplishing  their 
object  with  a  thoroughness  which  often  left  the  help- 
less women  and  children  perfectly  destitute. 

x\s  was  to  be  expected,  a  country-place  so  well- 
known  as  Eose  Hill  did  not  long  escape  the  notice  of 
these  parties,  and  whatever  the  Confederate  array  had 
left,  which  was  not  more  than  was  considered  an  ample 
allowance  for  the  comfort  of  the  family,  was  driven  off 
by  the  Yankees;  and  it  was  with  mingled  feelings  of 
indignation,  sorrow,  and  perplexity,  that  these  unpro- 
tected ladies  saw  their  entire  live  stock  driven  off,  with 
the  exception  of  one  cow  and  a  broken-down  cart-horse, 
which  with  many  laudatory  comments  upon  their  own 
generosity  the  officers  allowed  them  to  keep  for  the 
comfort  and  convenience  of  about  fifty  human  beings. 

It  was  during  this  time  of  perplexity  and  trouble 
that  Margaret  Murray, 'walking  into  her  sister's  room 
one  day,  said : 


OF  TUE  LATE   WAR.  I73 

*'  Mary,  I  am  sorry  to  toll  you,  but  Mr.  Dallam  ia 
down  stairs  and  wants  to  see  you." 

Mary  started  from  her  seat.  "  Oh,  Margie,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Don't  see  him.     Let  me  go  down  and  dismiss  him." 

For  an  instant  the  timid  girl  seemed  inclined  to  listen 
to  this  advice,  but  only  for  an  instant. 

"No,"  she  said,  *'he  never  would  believe  that  of 
my  own  free  will  I  decided  in  the  matter.  I  think  I 
had  better  go."  But  the  hands  which  proceeded  to 
arrange  her  toilet  for  the  interview  trembled  so  as  to 
be  almost  helpless. 

Margaret  stood  by,  affording  her  such  help  as  she 
could. 

"iS'ow,  Mary,"  said  she,  "don't  let  him  persuade 
you  ;  you  are  so  yielding." 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  be  afraid,"  was  Mary's 
quiet  answer.  "I  would  not  marry  him  now  if  there 
was  not  another  man  in  the  world." 

There  was  something  in  the  decision  of  her  reply 
which  surprised  Margaret. "  She  forgot  that  some  char- 
acters, like  physical  constitutions,  only  develop  their 
bone  and  sinew  under  rough  usage. 

Mary  Holcombe's  character  was  like  a  glass  of  spark- 
ling  Catawba,  which  when  first  it  catches  the  exhilar- 
ating air,  bubbles  and  laughs  with  effervescing  enjoy- 
ment in  its  brief  existence,  challenging  the  admiration 
of  all,  but  the  very  element  which  excites  exhausts, 
and  that  quickly,  for  in  a  moment  it  seems  to  die  sadly 
away.  I  say  seems;  for  looking  down  into  the  golden 
permanent  liquid  formed  from  this  glad  foam,  we  see 
rising  from  its  depths,  permeating  its  whole  being  and 
forming  its  life,  sparkles  of  light,  which,  if  less  upon 


174  WOMEX,   Oil   CURONICLES 

the  surface,  are  not  less  beautiful,  if  less  conspicuous 
are  more  all-pervading. 

Mr.  Dallam  awaited  in  some  anxiety  the  appearance 
oih.\^ fiancee.  He  was  perfectly  aware  that,  reason  as 
he  would  with  himself,  he  had  committed  an  act  which 
would  subject  him  to  the  censure  of  many,  and  that  in 
the  South  he  would  have  few  apologists ;  but  such  was 
his  confidence  in  the  affection  of  this  young  girl,  that 
even  should  -she  adopt  the  opinion  of  others  upon  the 
step  he  had  taken,  ho  would  have  but  small  difficulty 
in  reinstating  himself  in  her  opinion  and  her  heart. 
The  fact  is  that  while  he  fully  appreciated  the  charm 
of  Mary's  character,  he  underrated  it.  Of  its  hidden 
depth  and  strength  he  had  no  conception;  and  though 
he  looked  forward  to  some  reproaches  perhaps  (though 
even  this  was  doubtful),  he  had  no  fears  for  the  result. 

Never  had  he  felt  so  exultant  as  when  he  first 
caught  sight  of  Mary.  He  had  risen  at  the  sound  of 
her  light  footfall,  and  started  eagerly  forward  as  she 
made  her  appearance.  She  was  dressed  in  a  simple 
white  muslin,  without  ornament  or  color,  if  we  except 
the  knot  of  blue  ribbon  at  her  throat.  Excitement  had 
given  her  face  a  glow  and  her  eyes  a  light  which  made 
her  exceedingly  beautiful. 

What  power  there  is  in  a  mere  gesture  !  Those  deli- 
cate hands  extended  towards  him  after  his  long  ab- 
sence  would  have  been  welcome,  happiness!  but  raised 
as  they  were  before  her,  they  formed  a  defence,  a  bar- 
rier which  even  arrested  his  steps  before  he  had  meas- 
ured half  the  distance  across  the  room.  There  she 
stood  in  all  the  might  of  her  maiden  weakness,  and  he 
could  more  easily  with  his  unaided  arm  have  stormed 
a  batt,pry  th-an  have  attempted  her  simple  defences. 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  175 

Kor  was  she  on  her  part  unmoved  at  the  sight  of 
him.  The  dead  and  buried  love,  hke  the  bones  at  the 
touch  of  the  Apostle's  carcass,  rose  and  stood  upright. 
There  ^Yas  so  much  that  was  tangible  and  real  in  her 
feeling  for  him.  There  was  the  manly  beauty  which 
had  formed  a  part  of  it ;  the  light  gleaming  from  his 
eye  which  it  had  been  her  happiness  to  bring  there, 
the  voice  which  still  vibrated  like  a  familiar  note  of 
music  upon  her  ear.  But  the  soul  was  gone;  that 
which  had  given  life  and  brightness  to  all  this  fair  sur- 
face had  departed  with  her  confidence  in  his  honor 
''like  a  tale  that  is  told." 

"Mary!  Mary!"  he  said  reproachfully,  and  almost 
smiled  to  see  how  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  her  hands 
dropped  to  her  side,  and  the  blood  surged  backwards  and 
forwards  over  the  speaking  face,  one  instant  bathing  it 
with  the  rose  and  the  next  leaving  it  with  the  lily. 

His  confidence  all  returned  with  this  evidence  of  his 
power.  He  made  one  step  forward,  with  his  arms 
extended  towards  her ;  and  again  raising  her  hands  as  a 
defence,  she  passed  him  and  seated  herself  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  room. 

He  almost  felt  like  being  angry  at  her  childish  way- 
wardness, except  that  it  became  her;  do  what  she 
would,  it  added  to  her  attractions  in  his  eyes.  He  would 
try,  however,  what  meeting  her  on  her  own  ground 
would  do ;  so  seating  himself  at  a  little  distance,  he 
calmly  awaited  her  first  words,  which  he  saw  she  was 
striving  to  utter.  They  surprised  him  so  much  that  he 
smiled  openly. 

''  I  am  glad  you  are  come  at  last." 

"  One  would  not  imagine  so  from  your  reception  of 
me,"  he  said  with  warmth. 


176  WOMEN,   OR   CURONICLES 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  expecting  you  day  after  day,  ever 
since  the  Federal  army  came." 

He  moved  his  chair  a  little  nearer  to  her.  AVithout 
looking  towards  him,  she  went  on  : 

"  I  knew  that  it  was  best  for  us  both  that  this  should 
be  done  with  forever.  If  I  had  known  your  address 
I  would  have  Avritten.  But  it  is  better  as  it  is.  I  might 
have  felt  some  uncertainty  about  myself  if  I  had  not 
seen  you  ;  now  I  know.'* 

"  Know  what  ? "  he  said,  a  little  surprised  at  her 
manner. 

"  Know  that  the  past  is  past,"  said  she,  turning  to 
him. 

"  Pshaw  !  little  girl,"  he  said,  with  the  caressing 
manner  he  knew  she  used  to  love  ;  "  this  is  all  nonsense, 
a  mere  thin  cloud  over  the  sun  of  our  love,  ^ow 
it  has  passed.  Come,  don't  look  so  serious  ;  it  is  un- 
like yourself.'* 

"  Mr.  Dallam,  you  mistake,"  said  Mary  Holcombo 
as  he  attempted  to  take  her  hand,  and  at  once  the  dig- 
nity of  the  woman  rose  in  her  ;  "this  is  no  mere  freak 
to  be  passed  over  and  forgotten.  You  have  done  that 
which  changes  our  relations  so  entirely  that  the 
lightest  familiarity  is  an  insult  to  me." 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  astonished  and  almost  awed 
by  the  change  in  her,  and  drawing  back  from  her  side  ; 
''  but  explain." 

"  Explain  !  "  she  said,  bending  her  flashing  eyes 
upon  him.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  need  an  explana- 
tion ?  What  madness  possessed  you  to  think  that  I 
could  ever  link  myself  v/ith  dishonor  ?  " 

"  Dishonor  !  "  he  said,  but  not  angrily,  "  no,  nor  any- 
thing like  it.  It  was  no  more  dishonor  than  it  would 
have  been  to  have  resii^ned  here." 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  177 

"  AVoiild  the  ConfederatG  Government  regard  it  in 
the  name  light?  "  said  she. 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  would,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  ;  *•  but  I  speak  not  of  how  others  regard  it, 
but  of  my  own  opinion.  I  could  not  leave  my  father 
again  under  the  circumstances;  and  my  mother  is  a 
confirmed  invalid,  and  urged  my  compliance."  Ho 
spoke  with  difficulty  and  moodily.  *'  I  might  urge 
other  considerations  which  had  weight  with  me; 
but  — " 

"  Don't  urge  them,"  she  said  excitedly.  *'  Don't 
make  me  fall  in  my  own  esteem  so  utterly  as  to  know 
that  the  thought  of  mo  acted  as  a  temptation  to  a  man 
to  perjure  himself.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  I  was 
misunderstood  so  entirely  as  to  lead  you  to  suppose 
that  I  could  give  my  sanction  to  so  fearful  a  mistake." 

'•  This  is  all  exaggerated  sentiment,  a  mere  idea,"  he 
said. 

"Is  it?"  she  said,  more  calmly;  "I  think  not.  It 
seems  clear  to  me  that  swearing  allegiance  to  one 
Government,  while  still  unabsolved  from  that,  you 
swore  allegiance  to  another." 

"  You  have  been  well  tutored,"  he  said,  smiling  bit- 
terly at  her  reasoning. 

"Again  you  mistake  me,"  she  said.  "  I  studied  the 
matter  out  myself,  turning  it  backward  and  forward 
to  find  some  favorahle  light  for  you.  Eut  the  end  of 
the  whole  was  this:  You  sold  your  birthright  for  a 
mess  of  pottage." 

<'  Perhaps,"  he  said,  wincing  under  her  words  and 

taking  refuge  from  her  unanswerable  arguments  in  inu- 

endoes,  "perhaps  there  were  other  reasons  which  made 

this  decision  on  your  part  easy.     Constancy  is  not  an 

9-^ 


178  WOMBX   on  CHRONICLES 

infiilliblc  attribute  of  your  sex  ;  or  perhaps  —  indeed  I 
think,  from  the  facility  with  which  you  throw  off  3'our 
engagement  to  me,  you  never  really  cared  for  me." 

For  one  instant  her  face  flushed  indignantly^  and  then 
paled  away,  and  she  seemed  to  spend  one  moment  in 
thought  ere  she  answered. 

"I  almost  think  3'ou  are  right.  No,  I  never  loved 
you.  The  man  I  loved  w^ore  your  form,  but  it  was  not 
you.  It  was  an  ideal  which  I  set  up  in  my  heart  and 
made  an  idol  of.  (God  forgive  the  sin  !  )  It  fell ;  and 
falling,  was  shattered." 

She  seemed  to  have  ceased  speaking  to  him,  and  to 
be  rather  thinking  aloud.  He  recalled  Ellen  Ran- 
dolph's words,  and  acknowledged  with  bitterness  that 
she  Lad  judged  rightly.  His  eyes  turned  towards  the 
young  girl,  and  when  he  saw  in  her  all  he  had  once 
hoped  for — >and  the  memory  of  all  her  child-like  love- 
liness rose  np  before  him  —  the  hot  tears  filled  his 
eyes.  Pride  of  manhood  kept  them  there,  but  could 
not  banish  the  tremulousness  from  his  voice  as  he  said  : 

*•'  Mary,  I  have  mistaken  you,  truly ;  but  if  I  obtain 
forgiveness  of  the  Confederate  Government,  will  you 
too  pardon  ?  " 

A  woman  may  forgive  a  fault  in  a  man  if  bravely 
borne,  but  never  a  humiliation. 

It  was  with  an  expression  as  near  akin  to  contempt 
as  Mary  Holcombe's  face  was  capable  of  that  she  said  : 

"  Were  you  to  come  to  me  covered  with  the  honors 
of  the  w^orld,  the  recollection  of  this  moment  would 
rise  up  against  you." 

Then  he  knew  that  it  was  useless  any  longer  to 
plead,  and  that  Avith  all  her  wealth  of  youth,  beauty, 
and  sweetness,  she  was  lost  to  him. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR,  179 

After  it  was  all  over,  and  he  was  goue,  Mary  Hol- 
corabe  —  her  new-born  and  already  dead  sternness  all 
love  —  went  to  her  own  room,  and  throwing  herself 
on  the  bed,  wept  bitter  tears  over  her  dead  and  buried 
love  J  then  sprinkling  on  the  grave  some  sweet  flow- 
ers of  memory^  she  left  it  forever. 


180  WOME^^,  OR  CRnONIQLEa 


CHAPTEE    XYIII. 

"The  better  part  of  valor  is  discretion."  —  Shakspeare. 

Although  our  glances  backward  at  the  sad  story  of 
the  war  are  too  often  through  blinding  tears,  yet  was 
it  not  all  sorrow  ;  for  there  are  incidents  connected 
with  it  calling  forth  the  keenest  interest  and  amuse- 
ment, from  the  rapid  development  of  character  and  re- 
sources which  they  display  —  resources  called  into 
action  by  the  emergencies  of  the  times,  which  obliged 
2:)rompt,  decisive, energetic  thought,  resulting  in  prompt, 
decisive;  and  energetic  action.  Elements  of  character 
"which  would  have  remained  slumbering  during  times 
of  peace,  seemed  to  have  their  birth  and  grow  into 
vigorous  life  as  in  a  moment.  Men  who  in  ordinary 
times  would  have  played  at.  the  little  game  of  their 
lives  without  even  the  breath  of  fame  touching  them, 
placed  themselves  high  upon  its  rolls  by  deeds  of  dar- 
ing which  electrified  the  world  ;  and  woman,  naturally 
shrinking  from  the  mere  rumor  of  danger,  now  entered 
the  arena  where  death  might  any  moment  be  her  fate, 
and  dared  it  for  the  sake  of  others  as  calmly  as  the 
hero  on  the  battle-field.  Danger  and  death  were  the 
grim  inmates  of  every  household,  and  the  women  grew 
so  accustomed  to  their  companionship  that  they  ceased 
to  shrink  away  from  them,  but  laughed  and  talked  in 
their  presence  as  if  they  had  been  legitimate  members 
of  the  home  circle. 

During  the  spring  and  summer  of  the  year  1S63, 
Eose  Hill  constituted  in  some  sort  a  centre  around 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAR.  181 

which  the  most  stirring  portion  of  the  campaign  re- 
volved, subjecting  its  inmates  to  those  violent  changes 
which,  though  peculiarly  trying,  are  also  so  exciting 
as  to  he  productive  of  some  pleasurable  experiences; 
for  although  their  hearts  were  continually  kept  in  a 
state  of  anxiety  about  the  safety  of  their  friends, 
although  there  was  never  a  day  w^hich  did  not  bring 
to  their  ears  the  sound  of  the  murderous  cannon,  yet 
it  afforded  also  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  their 
friends  j  and  these  little  oases  in  the  desert  of  danger 
were  welcomed  with  the  keenest  pleasure.  One  feels 
infinitely  more  in  such  times  than  in  days  of  peace  and 
prosperity,  when  both  sorrow  and  joy  are  tame  expe- 
riences as  compared  with  the  same  sentiments  in  times 
of  war,  W'hcn  sorrovf  comes  with  a  wail  deep,  dreadful, 
despairing,  and  joy  with  exulting  shouts  of  triumph. 
Often  the  two  armies  would  sweep  over  them  several 
times  in  one  day.  The  ears  catching  approaching 
shouts,  they  would  only  have  time  to  rush  out  to  the 
door,  and  pursued  and  pursuers  would  rush  onward 
with  the  rapidity  of  the  wind ;  and  too  often  a  chance 
shot  would  bring  suffering  and  death  over  their  thres- 
holds, first  of  one  side  and  then  of  the  other. 

It  was  a  warm  day  in  early  summer.  The  three 
ladies  of  Kose  Hill  had  sought  the  library  as  the  cool- 
est spot  about  the  house,  and  were  sitting  with  closed 
Venetians,  through  which  a  pleasant  breeze  found  its 
way.  Mrs.  Holcombe  and  Margaret  Murray  were  at 
work,  while  Mary  lounged  on  a  sofa  with  a  book  in 
her  hand.  Her  attention,  however,  was  divided  be- 
tween her  interest  in  it  and  in  a  game  of  romps  which 
was  i^rogressing  between  the  two  little  boys,  Eddy 
Holcombe  and  Eobert  Murray. 


182  WOMBX   on  CIlROyiCLES 

The  former  was  ingeniously  harnessed  into  traces 
which  Vv-ere  held  by  the  baby  hands  of  little  Eobert, 
whose  uncertain  footsteps  were  not  proof  against  the 
curvetting  and  prancing  of  his  spirited  steed,  so  that 
every  few  moments  his  rotund  little  figure  would  roll 
ignominiously  on  the  floor;  upon  which  frequent  oc- 
casions Mary,  quite  deserting  her  book,  rushed  to.  the 
rescue,  reinstating  him  upon  his  chubby  legs,  and  join- 
ing in  the  bubbling  joyous  laughter  of  childhood  with 
gleeful  merriment. 

The  door  leading  into  the  hall  was  open,  and  the  wide 
space  afforded  a  convenient  highway  for  the  horse  and 
rider,  the  music  of  their  voices  making  echoes  in  the 
almost  empty  house. 

'•'A  dozen  times  at  least  that  I  have  set  you  up  in 
life,"  Baid  llary,  running  down  the  hall  and  catching 
up  the  laughing  boy  who  rolled  helplessly  on  the  floor; 
"I  might  as  well  give  up  all  thought  of  reading." 

She  was  standing  just  opposite  the  front  entrance 
of  the  house,  and  her  sentence  was  interrupted  by  the 
sudden  appearance  on  its  threshold  of  her  old  friend, 
Mr,  Hautman,  panting  from  exhaustion,  and  with  a 
face  in  which  excitement,  fun  and  anxiety  all  mingled. 

"  Hite  me !  hite  me,  my  dear  Miss  Holcome !  "  he 
said  hurriedly ;  "  de  Yankees  is  at  my  heel.  Gif  me  sum 
citzen  clothes ;  I  manish  de  rest." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  had  summoned  the  other  two 
ladies  to  the  spot,  and  Mrs.  Holcombe,  quite  stirred 
out  of  her  usual  quietness,  said,  starting  towards  her 
room : 

*'  This  way !  this  way  !  I  have  a  suit  of  John's  hang- 
ing in  the  sun  which  will  just  about  fit  you." 

Even  while  she  spoke  they  disappeared  together,  and 


OF  TBJS  LATE  WAR.  183 

111  a  moment  the  suit  of  Confederate  gray  was  thrown 
out  of  the  door,  and  Mary  ran  off  with  them  to  some 
remote  hiding-phxce,  while  Margie  took  the  precaution  to 
lock  the  front  door  and  reconnoitre  from  the  half-closed 
window.  In  as  short  a  time  as  I  have  taken  to  tell  the 
story,  the  different  actors  in  it  returned  to  the  hall, 
the  young  German  completely  metamorphosed  by  a 
suit  of  black  broadcloth,  and  flourishing  in  his  hands  an 
instrument  used  to  unscrew  bedsteads  which  his  quick 
eye  had  caught  sight  of  in  Mrs.  Holcombe's  room, 

"  I  tune  your  piano, ''  he  said,  proceeding  to  remove 
the  lid  of  the  instrument  which  stood  in  the  library. 
"You  ladies  go  in  an'  sew;  I  will  do  de  talk." 

There  was  no  time  to  lose,  as  his  pursuers  were 
already  loudly  knocking  at  the  door,  which  Margaret 
Murray  opened. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  officer  who  stepped  into  the 
hall  to  avoid  being  shaken  in  his  confidence  by  the  per- 
fect serenity  of  the  scene  before  him.  Mrs.  Murray  had 
evidently  just  risen  from  her  work,  as  she  had  a  half- 
darned  stocking  stretched  on  her  hand,  while  her  little 
boy  clung  to  her  dress.  Mrs.  Holcombe  sat  with  her 
work-basket  beside  her,  and  little  Eddy  on  a  stool  at  her 
feet  with  a  book  open  on  his  knee,  while  Mary  lounged 
in  an  easy-chair,  watching  the  motions  of  the  business- 
looking  foreigner  who  kept  up  a  ceaseless  "  tum  '  tum  I 
turn  I  "  on  the  piano. 

The  tableau  remained  only  long  enough  for  him  to 
take  in  the  view  and  be  influenced  by  it,  for  the  moment 
his  appearance  was  recognised  the  ladies  started  to 
their  feet  in  well-feigned  surprise,  the  piano-tuner 
ceased  his  work,  and  all  stood  as  if  waiting  an  explan- 
ation of  the  intrusion. 


184  WOJIUX  on   CHRONIGLE& 

The  officer,  a  soldierly  looking  maD,  bo^Ycd  courte- 
ously to  the  ladies,  as  he  said : 

"Excuse  my  intrusion,  ladies,  but  a  Confederate 
soldier  took  refuge  in  this  house  a  moment  ago,  and  I 
come  to  claim  my  prisoner." 

*'A  Confederate  soldier!"  exclaimed  several  voices 
at  once. 

"Yes,  ladies;  he  ran  up  those  steps  a  moment  ago," 
pointing  to  the  flight  which  led  up  the  terraces,  "  and 
disappeared  in  this  spot.  He  must  be  concealed  in 
this  house." 

Margaret  Murray  was  about  to  speak,  but  was  fore- 
stalled by  the  piano-tuner,  who  stepped  forward,  badge 
of  office  in  hand,  and  speaking  with  admirable  self-pos- 
session, said  ; 

"Dere  is  bin  no  one  here  sense  I  cum,  sir.  When  you 
see  him?  " 

The  officer  repeated  his  former  information. 

"  He  mus'  be  in  de  house  den,"  said  the  German,  with 
the  grave  manner  of  one  drawing  an  important  infer- 
ence from  undeniable  premises,  "  Better  git  him  ef 
you  kin.     I  no  see  no  Eebel  sense  I  cum." 

"  Oh,  he  is  here,  I  am  confident,"  said  the  man  ;  "  but 
he  may  have  concealed  himself  either  in  the  shrubbery 
or  the  lower  part  of  the  house  without  your  seeing  him. 
With  the  permission  of  the  ladies  I  will  institute  a 
search." 

The  permission  was  willingly  accorded,  and  while 
one  l)arty  searched  the  shrubbery  and  kept  guard 
around  the  house,  another,  with  the  Captain  at  its 
head,  proceeded  to  search  the  house. 

Mr.  Hautman  accompanied  this  latter  party,  and  the 
Captain  found  him  not  only  a  valuable  assistant,  but 


OF   TEE  LATE  WAR,  185 

an  agreeable  companion.  Various  suspicious  nooics 
whicli  miglit  liavc  been  passed  by  he  pointed  out  for 
investigation,  and  enlivened  the  way  with  numerous 
stories  of  his  life  as  connected  with  the  prosecution  of 
his  business,  and  also  of  what  he  had  heard  of  the  cun- 
ning and  achievements  of  the  "Eobel  soldiers,"  none  of 
which  seemed  to  be  exceeded  by  the  present  instance, 
as  the  most  diligent  search  foiled  to  elicit  anything 
to  reward  the  labor. 

"You  sure  you  see  him  cum  here?"  asked  Mr.  Haut- 
man  as  they  returned  to  the  hall. 

*'  As  sure  as  that  I  see  you,"  said  the  man.  *'  He  was  a 
man  not  so  tall  as  you  are,  dressed  in  artillery  uniform." 

"Hum !  dat's  vary  queer.  But  I  never  see  sich  men 
as  dese  Eebels ;  dey  sometimes  look  like  dey  sink  down 
in  de  groun'." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Captain  regretfully,"  I  don't  see  any- 
thing to  do  but  to  give  up,  hoping  for  better  luck  next 
time.  And,^'  turning  to  his  companion,  "  although  I  feel 
no  suspicion  of  you  myself,  sir,  I  must  request  you, 
as  you  are  the  only  gentleman  present,  to  accompany 
me  to  headquarters,  that  the  officer  in  command  may 
be  as  well  satisfied  as  I  am." 

"  Certain,  sir,  certain  ;  vary  reasonable.  I  go  wid 
pleasure.  Ladies,  I  leaf  my  instrument  here  till  I  cum 
back ;  den  I  finish  de  tune  your  piano."  And  off  he 
went,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  ladies,  and  equally 
to  his  own  as  he  managed  to  give  them  a  sly  glance  of 
meaning  as  he  rode  off  on  a  horse  furnished  by  his  new 
friend.  It  was  several  hours  before  ho  returned,  hav- 
ing undergone  a  slight  examination  perfectly  patisfac- 
tory  to  all  parties,  as  he  had  sustained  his  character  to 
perfection  and  had  not  even  excited  a  suspicion  as  to 
his  idoiititv. 


186  WOMEN,   OR  CERONICLEa 


CHAPTEE    XIX. 

"  The  best  laid  schemes  of  men  and  mice 
Gang  aft  aglej."  — Burns. 

"  Mamma,  do  you  know  that  I  almost  think  we  are 
the  victims  of  some  particular  spite  or  ill-feeling  on 
the  part  of  these  Yankees  ?  There  seems  to  be  a  sys- 
tem in  their  annoyances;  they  never  let  us  alone  two 
days  at  a  time." 

Margaret  Murray  was  the  speaker,  as  Mrs.  Holcombo 
and  herself  stood  together  on  the  front  portico,  taking 
in,  with  their  extended  vision,  the  utter  desolation 
which  the  whole  scene  presented — the  fields  lying 
fallow,  the  only  crops  they  seemed  to  bear  being  the 
white  mushroom  tents  which  dotted  them  in  the  dis- 
tance. The  sole  signs  of  life  which  met  their  eyes,  if 
anything  so  wanting  in  animation  could  be  called  life, 
was  an  occasional  lounging  figure  of  a  negro  enjoying 
his  freedom  by  doing  nothing. 

"  Oh,  no  I  expect  every  one  suffers  in  the  same 
way,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  in  answer  to  Margaret's 
su2:"'estion.  "  They  are  determined  to  starve  us  out, 
and  at  this  rate  it  will  not  take  long  to  do  it." 

'•Do  you  know,"  said  Margaret,  laughing,  "that  they 
say  Sarah  is  taking  boarders  over  at  '  Glen  Burnie  '  ? 
She  is  making  quite  a  fortune." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  shall  be  relieved  when  they  are  all 
gone  now.  They  are  a  dead  expense  and  no  profit," 
said  Mrs.  Holcombe. 

"  Ungrateful  creatures  !  "  said  Margaret  indignantly. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  187 

"  I  think  there  are  a  great  many  excuses  to  be  made 
for  them.  Of  course  they  love  the  thought  of  freedom, 
and  they  believe  that  this  Northern  army  has  come 
down  here  solely  on  their  account,  and  that  the  South 
is  fighting  to  retain  them  in  bondage ;  necessarily  it 
has  its  effect." 

"But  they  know  we  never  did  deceive  them,"  said 
Margaret. 

"  That  don't  make  any  difference.  Their  minds  are 
warped  now.  They  don't  think  of  the  past,  except  its 
hardships,  for  which  they  make  their  masters  respon- 
sible." 

"  I  think  Mammy  is  very  much  disgusted,"  said  Mar- 
garet. 

*'  Oh,  yes.  Mammy  is  above  most  of  the  others,  she 
has  been  so  much  with  vv^hite  people ;  but  does  it  not 
strike  you  that  old  Ailsie  has  undergone  a  change  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Holcombe. 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  she  is  evidently  preparing  for  some- 
thing. She  looks  as  smiling  as  possible,  and  I  have 
not  heard  of  her  '  pains  '  for  a  long  time." 

"  Well,"  added  Mrs.  Murray,  laughing,  ''  I  only  wish 
she  would  go.  They  would  certainly  get  a  treasure. 
She  has  not  done  a  stroke  of  work  for  ten  years  past." 

*'  Where  are  you  going,  little  man  ?  "  called  Jean,  as 
Eddie  made  his  appearance  riding  around  the  house  on 
his  "  stick  horse." 

"  I'm  doin'  to  dit  my  dun.  I  see  a  Yantee  tomin'," 
said  the  child,  as  his  white  curls  disappeared  around 
the  next  corner. 

'•I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  news,"  said  Mrs.  Hol- 
combe. 

It  was  confirmed  on  t.he  instant  by  the  appearance 


If  8  WOMEN,   on  CHRONICLES 

of  a  lung-legged,  raw-boned  cavalryman  in  the  blue 
nniform,  Avho  presented  himself  and  handed  a  note  to 
Mrs.  Holcombe. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  said  Margie,  looking  over  her 
shoulder,  "  an  order  for  the  contents  of  our  meat- 
house  !  Well,  this  is  truly  the  rose-leaf  which  over- 
flows the  cup  !  " 

"  What  are  we  expected  to  live  on  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hol- 
combe in  dismay,  turning  to  the  man. 

'•  Waal,  I  don't  know  now.  I  'spect  you  has  a 
plenty  left  yet,  and  womenkind  don't  require  sich 
strong  food  as  we  men  folk ;  and  then  too,  ma'am,  3'ou 
hadn't  orter  forgit  that  we  has  to  fight,  and  we  sorter 
can't  do  that  without  plenty  o'  meat." 

''And  do  you  suppose,"  said  Margaret  angrily,  ''  that 
we  are  going  to  supply  you  with  strength  to  fight  our 
own  men  ?  " 

<'I\ot  ef  you  kin  help  it,  ma'am,  I  know;  but  you 
sorter  can't.  We's  got  the  strength  on  you.  JS'ow,  ef 
you  was  jist  loyal  citizens  I  'spose  as  how  you  could 
keep  your  meat,  but  bein'  Eebels,  the  Government  don't 
seem  to  keer  whether  you  eats  or  not.'^ 

"  This  is  sheer  impertinence,"  said  Margaret  indig- 
nantly, adding,  with  her  proud  head  thrown  back  and 
her  voice  ringing  out  its  tones  of  command  :  "  Where  is 
this  Captain  Brown  who  signs  this  paper  ?  " 

"  Down  at  the  'campment,  ma'am,  I  'spect,"  said  the 
man,  turning  in  surprise  at  the  change  a  minute  had 
wrought,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  which  he  had  not 
done  before. 

*'  Wei],  2:0  to  him  and  tell  him  that  I  want  to  see 
him.  He  certainly  is  not  a  brute  ;  and  not  one  piece  of 
this  meat  shall  go  until  he  comes  himself  for  it.  We 
are  not  ob]ii!;od  to  obey  orders  sent  in  this  \xi\y." 


OF  TEE  LATE   WAR.  189 

'•Eat,  ma'am,  my  orders  is — " 

"  Never  mind  what  your  orders  are  ;  do  as  I  tell 
3^011,"  said  Margaret,  leaning  over  the  railing  against 
which  she  stood  and  speaking  emphatically. 

There  is  a  strange  power  in  a  beautiful  woman  some- 
times, and  this  fact  had  a  striking  illustration  in  the 
scene  before  us.  But  a  moment  ago  and  the  manner 
of  this  man  had  been  impertinent  in  the  extreme  ;  but 
the  change  of  mood  in  Margaret  Murray  had  produced 
a  change  also  in  him.  Perhaps  if  he  had  thought  for 
an  instant  of  her  perfect  powerlessness  to  prevent  the 
execution  of  his  order,  it  might  have  weakened  the  in- 
fluence of  her  appearance  ;  but  there  she  stood  above 
him,  with  her  queenly  height,  her  noble  bearing,  her 
flashing  eyes,  and  glowing  cheeks,  morally,  mentally, 
and  really  the  superior,  her  claim  asserting  and  main- 
taining itself  unaided  by  physical  strength  ;  and  if  he 
had  been  shot  for  it  the  next  instant  the  man  could 
have  done  no  less  than  obey. 

"Now,  Mamma,"  said  Margaret  hastily,  as  soon  as 
he  was  out  of  hearing,  "  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be 
lost ;  they  will  be  here  again  directly.  Mammy  and 
Uncle  Bob  are  the  only  two  of  the  negroes  whom  I 
will  trust.  You  go  and  keep  the  servants  engaged  in 
the  kitchen,  and  I  will  put  Mary  on  guard  about  the 
quarters,  while  Mammy  and  Uncle  Bob  and  myself  do 
the  rest." 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  her  arrange- 
ments were  completed,  and  the  two  faithful  old  ser- 
vants at  work.  Margaret  was  everywhere,  in  fail  and 
vigorous  command  of  her  forces,  novf  recounoitering  in 
different  directions  to  see  that  no  curious  eyes  were 
prying   into  her  proceedings,   now  running   into   the 


190  WOMEN,   OR  CURONIGLES 

kitchen  to  see  that  Mrs.  Ilolcombe  was  sufficiently 
vigilant,  and  then  down  to  give  Mary  fresh  charges  on 
no  account  to  let  any  of  the  people  come  towards  the 
house,  and  then  making  a  dash  into  the  smoke-house 
to  receive  reports  of  the  progress  there.  She  found 
cverj'thing  getting  on  admirably.  Mrs.  Ilolcombe, 
as  the  best  way  of  meeting  the  emergency,  was  super- 
iutending  a  monster  cake-baking,  and  never  before 
during  the  existence  of  Eose  Hill  had  a  cake-baking 
been  superintended  so  closely  by  its  mistress,  or  re- 
quired so  many  hands  in  its  manufacture.  Dolly 
must  watch  the  oven  and  grease  the  pans,  Sally  was 
required  to  beat  the  whites  until  they  could  not  only 
have  stood  alone,  but  borne  a  considerable  burden  be- 
sides, Hannah  beat  the  yolks,  and  Susan  creamed  the 
butter.  Never  before  had  their  gentle  mistress  been  so 
exacting  or  hard  to  please,  and  all  too  in  a  quiet,  com- 
posed way  which  excited  no  suspicion. 

Mary,  in  the  meantime,  took  a  book,  and  seating  her- 
self so  as  to  command  the  only  path  leading  from  the 
quarters  to  the  house,  stopped  every  one  who  came  by, 
and  either  engaged  them  in  conversation  or  sent  them 
off  in  messages  in  different  directions. 

"Ah,  George,"  she  said,  as  a  stout  negro  man  came 
up  the  path,  "  I  certainly  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  have 
been  sitting  here  in  the  sun  until  I  am  almost  choked 
with  thirst." 

''  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  George,  raising  his  hat.  '^  I  will 
go  to  de  house  en  git  you  sum  nice  ice-water." 

'•  I  don't  want  ice-water  ;  I  am  not  very  fond  of  ice- 
water  any  time.  I  want  some  from  the  spring  over 
the  hill,  behind  the  quarters." 

George  looked    astonished.      Why  that  particular 


OF  Tilt:  LAfi)    WAn.  191  . 

spring  should  be  fixed  upon,  when  there  were  three  or 
four  nearer,  was  somewhat  mysterious  ;  but  after  hesi- 
tatin«^-  for  an  instant  and  showing  his  white  teeth,  oif 
he  ran. 

*'Ah,  Aunt  Ailsie,  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

'•  Up  to  de  house,  thank  the  Lord,  Misstis." 

"  Well,  how  are  you,  old  woman  ?  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Misstis,  I  is  heap  better.  I  seems 
sorter  to  be  gittin'  limber  en  gallish  agin." 

"  Indeed,  Aunt  Ailsie !  "  said  Mary,  laughing  openly, 
"  that  is  a  wonderful  change.  You  must  be  thinking 
of  going  with  the  Yankees." 

"No  indeed,  Misstis,  I  ain't  no  sich  fool.  I  is  goin' 
to  stay  'long  of  you  ma,  and  let  her  take  keer  of  me  all 
my  life." 

"Yery  kind  and  considerate  of  you.  Aunt  Ailsie,'' 
said  Mary,  her  face  beaming  with  fun.  '-  Now  you  are 
getting  so  young  I  will  have  to  take  you  as  my  maid 
when  Hannah  goes  to  the  Yankees." 

"  Law,  Miss  May,  but  I  used  to  was  your  Gramma's 
maid,  when  I  was  a  gal.  But,  Miss  May,  I  want  you 
to  give  me  one  new  coat,  ef  you  please,  ma'am." 

*'  A  new  coat  ?  "  said  Mary,  laughing. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  ef  you  please,  ma'am,  en  one  string 
like  dat  you  got  dare,"  pointing  to  the  ribbon-bow  at 
her  collar. 

"What  upon  earth,  Aunt  Ailsie,"  said  Mary,  her 
curiosit}^  gaining  the  mastery  over  her  amusement, 
"  would  you  do  with  a  ribbon  ?  " 

"  W^ar  it,  Misstis,  war  it !  You  see  —  he  !  he  !  he !  " 
looking  shyly  down  and  smoothing  her  cotton  dress  as 
a  cover  to  her  embarrassment  —  "Jake  from  over  to 
Mr.  Clarke's  en  me  is  goin'  to  git  maryed." 


192  WOME^'',   OR   CHRONICLES 

**  What !  "  exclaimed  Mary,  dropping  her  book  in  her 
astonishment :  "  married !  Good  gracious  I "  and  look- 
ing at  the  old  withered  face  aping  youth  "with  her  at- 
tempts at  modest  shyness,  she  laughed  until  the  tears 
ran  over  her  cheeks. 

'' Well,  Miss  May,"  said  Ailsie,  a  little  mortified  at 
the  reception  of  her  nevrs,  ''he  Trant  me.'' 

"  But,  Aunt  Ailsie,"  said  Mary,  trying  to  control  her 
amusement,  "you  are  too  old  to  be  married." 

"Oh  no,  ma'am,"  said  the  old  "woman,  shaking  her 
head  :  "womans  always  likes  to  git  mar-yed,  do  dcy  is 
old.  You  see  Jake,"  growing  suddenly  confidential, 
"  he  want  somewhar  to  stay;  his  old  marster  is  gone 
way,  en  all  his  young  marsters  is  in  de  army,  en  he 
ain't  got  nobody  to  men'  his  close.  But  law,  Miss 
May!  look  up  at  de  house;  de  sartinly  is  soljers 
dare." 

Yes,  there  they  were,  and  Mary  was  relieved  from 
duty. 

Margie  in  the  meantime  had  been  superintending 
the  removal  of  the  meat,  which  Uncle  Bob  insisted 
ought  not  be  secreted  in  the  house,  as  it  would  cer- 
tainly be  found  there. 

"  Well,  where  are  you  going  to  put  it.  Uncle  Bob  ?  " 
said  Margaret. 

"  Never  you  mind,  my  young  misstis.  Ef  dey  ax  you, 
you  say  you  dunno  ;  dey  never  will  find  dese  hogs 
whar  I  puts  em,"  and  off  he  walked  with  the  big 
clothes-basket  full  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Well !  well ! "  said  Mammy,  putting  her  arms 
akimbo  and  nodding  her  head  slowly  and  contempla- 
tively; "  de  devil  surely  is  got  de  upper  ban'  in  dcso 
days,  de  'leniel  mus'  be  comin'.    'Tis  surtintly  time  he 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR,  193 

was  gittia  bound,  fur  ho  is  goin'  abroad  like  a  roarin' 
lion,  in  dese  blue  coats,  seekin'  what  he  Idn  devour." 
And  Mammy's  glance  at  the  devoted  bacon  made  a 
practical  illustration  of  her  quotation. 

"  I  wish  he  would  let  our  bacon  alone,"  said  Mar- 
garet laughing,  and  at  the  same  time  gazing  anxiously 
down  the  road  by  which  the  foragers  might  every 
moment  be  expected.  They  were  longer  coming  than 
she  had  anticipated.  Uncle  Bob  had  returned  with 
his  empty  basket,  and  was  up  on  the  ladder  throwing 
down  hams  and  shoulders,  which  Mammy  fixed  in  the 
basket,  and  Margaret  resumed  her  watch. 

Scarcely  a  minute  had  elapsed,  however,  before  she 
returned  with  flying  footsteps  to  say  that  about  a  dozen 
men  were  issuing  from  the  grove,  and  it  required  all 
Uncle  Bob's  expedition  to  make  off  with  his  last  load 
before  their  arrival. 

Taking  the  key  of  the  smoke-house  from  Mammy, 
Margaret  Murray  ran  up  to  her  own  room,  to  smooth 
her  hair,  and  to  remove  from  her  person  ail  traces  of 
disorder  before  she  should  be  summoned  to  answer  for 
her  rebellion. 

"  Ah,  baby  !  "  she  said  as  she  entered  her  room,  and  a 
little  figure  all  quivering  and  screaming  with  delight  at 
her  appearance  ran  to  meet  her,  "  his  mamma  has  not  one 
minute  for  him."  But  snatching  him  up  and  burying 
her  face  for  an  instant  in  his  deliciously  cool,  soft, 
sweet  flesh,  she  bathed  him  in  her  kisses,  showering 
them  upon  his  glowing  cheeks  and  laughing  lips,  feeling 
with  rapture  the  print  of  his  pearly  little  teeth  against 
her  lip,  and  then  placing  him,  all  glowing,  in  the  lap  of 
his  nurse.  Master  Eobby  had  no  idea,  however,  of 
resigning  his  rights  without  a  struggle,  and  nurse  did 
10 


194  WOMEy,  OR  CHRONICLES 

DOt  satisfy  -vvhcii  mamma  was  present ;  so  bis  little 
feet  beat  a  vigorous  tattoo  against  nurse's  knees, 
keeping  time  to  tbe  music  of  bis  voice,  wbicb  gave  fortb 
a  perfect  babel  of  music,  attesting  tbe  strengtb  and 
power  of  bis  lungs. 

''  Tbere,  take  bim  down  stairs,"  said  Margaret,  bastily 
putting  a  little  straw  bat  on  bis  bead  ;  "  I  can't  bear 
to  bear  bim  cry." 

Tbis  disposed  of,  it  was  tbe  work  of  a  minute  to  dip 
ber  flusbed  face  in  a  basin  of  cool  water,  dasbing  tbe 
limpid  drops  backwards  and  forwards,  and  emerging 
from  tbe  operation  looking  like  a  queen-rose  witb  tbe 
morning  dew  on  it.  A  few  basty  manipulations  witb 
tbe  brusb  over  tbe  sbining  bair,  a  sleigbt-of-band  move- 
ment witb  tbe  knot  of  ribbon  at  ber  tbroat,  and  rapid 
straigbtening  of  draperies,  and  tbere  sbe  stood  com- 
plete, calmly,  radiantly  beautiful. 

"  Ob,  Margie !  "  said  Mary,  rusbing  into  tbe  room 
witb  frigbtened  face,  ''  tbe  soldiers  are  all  around  tbe 
bouse,  and  tbe  officer  in  tbe  parlor  wanting  to  s^^eak 
to  you  1  " 

"  Well,  I  am  ready  for  bim,"  said  Margaret,  smiling 
composedly.  *'  Tbere  is  notbing  to  frigbten  you, 
cbild ;  I  sent  for  bim  to  speak  to  me." 

"And,  Margie,  as  I  came  tbrougb  tbe  back  way  I 
beard  bim  stop  Nanny  in  tbe  ball  witb  Eobby  and  ask 
ber  wbose  cbild  it  was." 

"  I  bope  sbe  told  bim,  for  I  am  very  proud  of  tbat 
];)iece  of  property,  of  wbicb  he  can't  deprive  me." 

*'  Ob,  Margie,"  said  Mary,  looking  at  ber  sister  witb 
surprise  not  unmixed  witb  admiration,  "  I  do  not  see 
bow  you  can  be  so  cool  about  it  1  I.  know  I  sbould  be 
frigbtened  to  deatb/' 


OF  TUB  LATE  ^YAn,  195 

Margaret  already  had  her  hand  on  the  door.  Turn- 
ing around  with  a  glowing  face  and  a  shyness  of  man- 
ner which  always  characterised  her  when  she  departed 
from  her  usual  reticence  with  regard  to  the  innermost 
feelings  of  her  heart,  she  said  : 

"Mary,  do  you  know  what  has  helped  me  all  day? 
The  last  day  my  husband  was  with  me,  when  we  were 
taking  leave  of  each  other,  and  I  was  crying  so  bitterly 
at  the  thought  of  how  long  it  would  be  before  I  saw 
him  again,  he  whispered  in  my  ear,  *  As  thy  day,  so 
shall  thy  strength  be.'  It  is  such  a  comfort,  too,  to 
know  that  he  is  putting  me  in  the  safe  keeping  of 
*  Our  Father  '  each  day.  I  don't  seem  to  be  afraid  of 
anything."  And  as  she  said  the  last  word  she  opened 
the  door,  and  before  her  sister  had  time  to  speak  she 

was  gone. 

One  moment  she  stopped  to  kiss  baby  as  she  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  then  without  further  hesitation 
pursued  her  course  to  the  drawing-room. 

The  room  was  dark,  and  as  she  opened  the  door, 
coming  out  of  the  light  she  saw  but  dimly  a  dark 
figure  rise  up  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  to 
nTeet  her.  On  the  contrary,  as  she  hesitated  for  an 
instant  in  the  open  door,  her  form  was  set  in  a  frame- 
work of  light,  and  stood  out  against  the  vision  of  the 
man  who  looked  out  of  the  darkness  upon  her. 

"  I  address  Mrs.  Murray  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head,  while  a  thrill  went  through  her 
.   at  the  familiar  tones  of  the  voice. 

"  Mrs.  Murray  does  not  recognise  an  old  friend." 

*•'  It  would  be  hard  to  do  so  when  he  comes  disguised 
as  an  enemy,  and  with  robbery  in  his  right  hand,"  said 
she,  peering  through  the  darkness,  and  trying  in  vain 


196  WOMFI^,  OR  CHRONICLES 

to  bring  herniemory  to  help  her  in  the  task  of  recog- 
nition. 

">S7ie  is  at  least  unchanged,  except  in  name,-'  said  the 
officer,  making  a  step  forward  as  he  spoke.  A  ray  of 
light  met  him,  and  brought  to  her  view  with  startling 
distinctness  the  familiar  face  of  Dr.  Burton. 

For  one  instant  her  courage  failed  her.  With  the 
suddenness  of  a  blow,  all  of  the  unhappiness,  to  her,  of 
which  he  had  been  the  author  started  out  from  her 
memory  —  the  disgrace  he  had  projected,  and  the  shot 
■which  had  so  nearly  robbed  her  life  of  its  life.  She 
knew  him  as  her  bitter,  remorseless  enemy. 

Watching  her  keenly  to  see  the  effect  of  this  recog- 
nition, a  gleam  of  joy  darted  to  his  heart  as  he  saw  her 
arms  thrown  up  above  her  head,  a  natural  action  for 
a  woman  in  mortal  terror.  He  had  brought  down  the 
noble  animal  w^ith  one  shot.  The  next  instant,  how- 
ever, he  almost  doubted  if  the  gesture  had  not  been  a 
creation  of  his  imagination,  as  she  stood  before  him 
calm  and  self-possessed,  though  a  trifle  pale  perhaps, 
and  her  voice  had  its  old  ring  of  clear  music,  without  a 
tremor  in  it. 

"  It  is  Dr.  Burton,  then,  to  whom  our  thanks  are  due 
for  the  losses  and  annoyances  of  the  past  few  days  ?" 

*'  Dr.  Burton  simply  obeys  orders,  madam.  He  is 
under  orders  to  forage  through  the  country,  and  he  is 
doing  it,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  little  embarrassment 
and  a  good  deal  of  defiance. 

"  Thoroughlj',  as  we  can  testify,"  said  she,  with  a 
bitter  smile.  *'  If  ho  is  as  faithful  everywhere  as  at 
Eose  Hill,  the  United  States  has  reason  to  congratu- 
late itself  upon  its  forage-master." 

He  struggled  against  it,  but  for  the  life  of  him  he 


OP  THE  LATE  WAR.  107 

could  not  help  wincing  under  her  blows.  He  felt  the 
nerves  of  his  face  twitch,  to  hide  which  evidence 
against  himself  he  rubbed  it  violently  with  his  pocket 
handkerchief,  as  though  overcome  by  the  heat. 

Without  ansvv-ering  her  directly,  he  said: 

"  You  sent  for  me,  I  believe." 

"No,  I  sent  for  the  Captain  Brown  who  signed  that 

order." 

A  smile,  half  of  embarrassment,  crossed  his  iiico. 

«  Well,  I  suppose  I  will  do  as  well." 

A  light  broke  over  her. 

"  Are  you  Captain  Brown  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  attempted  a  laugh,  but  failed  ;  tried  to  cover 
the  failure  with  a  cough,  then  looking  up  and  finding 
her  still  waiting  his  answer,  said  doggedly  : 

"Well,  there's  nothing  against  that,  is  there?  A 
man  has  a  right  to  name  himself  what  he  pleases." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said,  "  but  it  is  generally  esteemed 
rather  a  suspicious  circumstance  when  a  man  assumes 

an  alias." 

Either  he  was  becoming  conscious  that  he  was  mak- 
ing rather  a  sorry  appearance  in  this  word  contest, 
and  determined  to  throw  off  the  spell,  or,  conscious  of 
his  power,  he  was  anxious  to  make  an  exhibition  of  it, 
and  hasten  the  humiliation  of  this  indomitable  spirit, 
whose  cool  self-composure  fairly  maddened  him. 

"lyfow  listen  to  me,  young  woman,"  he  said,  coming 
towards  her,  "  this  talk  won't  do  for  me.  Our  relations 
are  changed  somewhat  since  I  saw  you  last.  I  let  you 
lord  it  then,  because  — because  I  chose  to.  But  that 
time  is  past,  and  I  advise  you  to  keep  that  sharp  tongue 
of  yours  still,  or  it  will  be  worse  for  you." 

Even  while  it  galled  him  and  made  him  feel  beaten 


198  WOJIBy,  OR  CHRONICLES 

and  baffled,  bis  buman  beart  paid  in  some  sort  an  in- 
voluntary tribute  of  admiration  to  tbe  fearless  front  witb 
wbicb  sbe  met  bis  tbreats.  Standing  tbere  witb  ber 
proud  bead  tbrown  back,  and  ber  cbeek  uublancbed  by 
a  symptom  of  fear,  ber  lip  curled  sligbtly  as  sbe  said  : 

''  So  Dr.  Burton,  or  Captain  Brown,  wbicbever  it  may 
be,  is  not  asbaraed  to  war  upon  women  and  cbildren." 

"Xo,  not  wben  women  and  cbildren  war  upon  me." 

"  Tbe  weapons  of  our  warfare,"  sbe  said,  smiling, 
"must  be  formidable  indeed  to  require  so  great  an 
expenditure  of  force  to  overcome  tbem,"  and  going  to 
a  window,  sbe  tbrew  open  tbe  blinds,  and  disclosed  to 
view  some  twelve  or  fifteen  men  drawn  up  in  front  of 
tbem. 

"Yes,"  said  be,  following  ber,  and  returning  tbe 
military  salute  witb  wbicb  tbe  men  acknowledged  bis 
presence,  "you  see  tbat  tbe  Federal  Government  is 
prepared  to  enforce  tbe  execution  of  its  orders.  If  you 
bad  submitted  quietly  tbis  morning  tbere  would  bave 
been  no  necessity  for  tbis  display." 

At  tbis  juncture  Mrs.  Holcombe  appeared  at  tbe 
door. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Margaret,  "  you  remember  I  said  to 
you  tbis  morning  tbat  I  was  sure  tbe  attentions  we 
bave  been  experiencing  for  some  time  past  must  owe 
tbeir  frequency  to  some  special  friend.  Our  quondam 
acquaintance.  Dr.  Burton,"  pointing  towards  bim, 
"now  transformed  into  Captain  Brown." 

Mrs.  Holcombe  looked  bewildered,  and  but  balf  un- 
derstood tbe  scene.  Eecognising  Dr.  Burton,  however, 
ber  face  blancbed  at  tbe  recollection  of  tbe  last  time 
sbe  bad  seen  bim,  mingled  witb  a  sense  of  bis  present 
I)Ower.     j^ow,  Jean  Holcombe  was  no   heroine,   and 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAR  199 

had  no  courage  except  moral  courage.  Ph^'sicaliy  she 
was  —  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  fact  —  a  coward. 
Clasping  licr  hands  she  said  : 

"Surely  Dr.  Burton  will  not  allow  a  private  feeling 
to  influence  Lis  public  actions?  " 

She  was  too  easily  brought  down  for  him  to  value 
his  conquest,  and  he  looked  beyond  her  at  the  higher 
game  as  he  said  : 

"  I  shall  certainly,  madam,  obey  orders  strictly,  and 
those  orders  require  me  to  forage  thoroughly  through 
this  countr3^  The  Eebels  have  had  their  full  share, 
and  the  United  States  Government  has  a  right  to  the 
rest." 

*-And  does  the  Government  give  no  equivalent  for 
these  things?"  asked  Mrs.  Ilolcombe. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  said  Dr.  Burton,  with  a  wicked 
sneer,  "I  will  give  you  a  paper  securing  ^^ou  full  pay- 
ment at  the  end  of  the  war  —  provided  you  can  prove 
satisfactorily  that  you  have  been  loyal  citizens  during 
the  whole  of  it.^' 

Even  Mrs.  Holcombe  smiled,  and  Margaret  laughed 
outright, 

"  I  judge  rightly  that  it  would  be  useless  to  give  any 
such  guarantee  to  you,"  said  the  man. 

"Perfectly,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  adding,  "The 
Southern  people  then  have  no  rights  of  property?  " 

"  Xo  ;  everything  they  have  is  confiscated  for  the  use 
of  the  United  States." 

"  And  women  and  children  are  left  to  starvation, 
said  Margaret. 

He  turned  toward  her,  and  if  ever  his  Satanic  Majesty 
looked  forth  from  human  eye,  she  saw  him  then. 
She  thought  of  the  man  who  had  the  legion  of  devils, 


200  WOM£JX,   OB  CURONIGLES 

and  believed  she  saw  him.  He  had  utterly  failed  in 
humbliag  her ;  but  still  ho  had  the  power  to  revenge 
himself,  and  would  do  it.  It  was  hard  work  to  pre- 
serve his  composure  of  manner,  with  the  fiery  wrath 
burninor  within  him  ;  but  he  must  do  it.  So  bowini^ 
himself  out,  the  two  ladies  heard  him  issuing  his  orders 
for  the  complete  sacking  of  the  meat-house  ;  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  piece  of  strategy  accomplished  in  the 
morning,  the  large  household  would  have  been  left 
without  the  necessaries  of  life. 


OF  TJIE  LATB  WAR.  201 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

"  Final  ruin  fiercely  drives 
Her  ploughshare  o'er  creation."  — Young, 

During  the  years  1862-3  Wincbester  constituted  the 

shuttlecock  in  the   great  game  of  battledore  between 

the  Federal  and  Confederate  armies.     Now  propelled 

forward  by  a  blow  from  one,  it   flies   to  the   other, 

where  it  only  meets  with  the  same  treatment.     And 

very  much  worsted  too  was  the   shuttlecock  by  the 

unusual  length  and  earnestness  of  the  game.     For  not 

only  was   the    march   of  improvement  in    the   town 

suspended,  but  the   march  of  devastation   had   made 

rapid   strides.     The   streets  were   a  scene   of  ragged 

neglect,    where    the    filth  of   years    from    the    large 

armies  which  had  occupied  it  had  been  permitted  to 

accumulate,  until  the  sickening  effluvia  which  rose  from 

them,  tainting  the  air,  sapped  the  life  in  the  veins  of 

those  who  breathed  it.     Rosy  cheeks  grew  white  under 

its  influence,  and  Arm   steps  faltered  in  the  ordinary 

walks  of  life.     Some  houses  had  disappeared  entirely, 

leaving  wide  gaps ;  in  some  places  the  blackened  ruins 

told  of  the  powerful  aid  which  had  been  summoned  by 

the  demon  of  destruction,  and  in  others  were  traces  of 

entire  buildings  pulled  down  to  help  in  the  erection  of 

fortifications.     Kor  did  the   structures  still    standmg 

present  a  much  more  cheerful  appearance,  some  bemg 

in  the  last  stage  of  dilapidation,  deprived  of  windows 

and  doors,  from  the  ragged  apertures  of  which  might 

10* 


202  WOMEy,   OR  GHlWyiCLES 

be  seen  peering  the  heads  of  mules  and  horses,  people 
and  animals  living  side  by  side  and  quite  upon  a  social 
equality  so  far  as  accommodations  went. 

Around  the  town  the  belt  of  hills  which  had  been 
dotted  with  pretty  little  groves,  or  noble  forest  trees 
either  growing  singly  or  in  groups,  were  now  naked 
and  bare,  and  formed  the  groundwork  for  a  formidable 
line  of  red  fortifications  crowned  with  their  bristling 
cannon,  which  frowned  down  upon  the  rebellious  town 
that  had  never  during  its  long  trial  swerved  from  its 
allegiance  to  the  South. 

The  policy  of  the  different  Federal  commandants 
who  had  filled  the  post  at  Winchester  towards  the  in- 
habitants was  almost  as  various  as  their  names.  One 
would  believe  in  coercive  measures,  and  the  citizens 
would  be  subjected  to  the  severest  annoyances,  such  as 
meaningless  searches  and  serious  deprivations,  the  oath 
of  allegiance  being  the  only  price  of  exemption.  The 
next  would  as  far  as  possible  ignore  the  women  and 
children,  and  permit  them  to  pursue  the  ordinary 
routine  of  their  lives  without  let  or  hindrance.  The 
next  again,  under  an  appearance  of  great  indulgence 
and  forbearance,  would  strive  to  lull  into  security  the 
unwary,  whilst  he  exercised  a  strict  espionage  over 
every  household  by  means  of  regular  spies,  or  negroes 
employed  to  act  as  such.  The  fact  is  that  almost  in- 
variably they  held  exaggerated  ideas  of  the  j^ower, 
infiueuce,  and  knowledge  possessed  by  the  Southern 
women,  believing  that  many  of  them  held  a  regularly 
oro-auized  communication  with  the  Confederate  army, 
and  possessed  an  intimate  knowledge  of  its  secret 
movements,  etc.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  this  was  a 
ludicrous  mistake,  as  they  were  far  more  ignorant  of 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAR  203 

the  military  plans  and  intentions  of  the  Southern  army 
than  the   Federals  themselves.     It  is  true  that  they 
placed  the  most  implicit  confidence  in  the  starthng 
rumors  which  filled  the  air,  and  were  ready  to  believe 
any  day  that  Jackson  was  at  hand ;  and  then  too  there 
is  a  characteristic  in  women  which  forbids  their  ever 
acknowledging  perfect  ignorance  upon  any  subject  and 
their  manner  was  often  a  laughable  assumption  of  su- 
pe  rior  wisdom,  with  an  expression  denoting  ability  to 
throw  light  upon  any  subject  whatever,  did  the  will 
only  s  econd  the  motion  ;  and  the  exercise  of  this  mno- 
cent  peculiarity  was  often  the  cause  of  serious  trouble 
and  annoyance.  ,     -,      ^ 

Up  to  the  winter  of  1863,  however,  the  actual  suher- 
ing  of  the  non-combatants  of  Winchester  was  very 
much  confined  to  experiences  inseparable  from  a  state 
of  war,  and  they  read  the  accounts  from  New  Orleans 
and  other  places  with  thankful  hearts  that  their  "hues 
were  fallen  to  them  in  more  pleasant  places." 

At  that  time,  however,  cause  for  congratulation 
ceased,  as  two  stars  arose  upon  the  military  horizon 
of  \Yinchester  almost  at  the  same  instant,  whoso  ap- 
pearance prognosticated  evil  to  its  inhabitants.  They 
were  styled  in  military  phraseology,  Generals  Cluseret 

andMilroy. 

The  first-named  of  these  stars  introduced  himselt 
unfavorably  to  the  citizens  by  the  issue  of  a  requisi- 
tion upon  the  depleted  larders  of  the  town  for  five 
thousand  pounds  of  bacon,  which,  if  not  forthcoming 
by  a  specified  time,  the  town  would  be  given  up  to  the 

soldiery. 

Terrible  was  the  consternation  of  the  people,  as  it 
was  confidently  believed  that  not  half  of  that  amount 


2C4  WOJIEX  OB  CHRONICLES 

could  bo  raised  5  but  it  seems  General  Clnscrct  knew 
better,  and  his  energetic  proceedings  were  crowned 
with  success.  Indeed,  so  earnest  was  ho  in  the  pur- 
suit of  the  Eebel  meat  that  ho  constituted  himself 
forage-master,  and  did  not  spare  himself  the  humilia- 
tion of  diving  into  the  kitchens,  garrets,  and  store- 
rooms,  in  order  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  end. 

Here  he  proclaimed  liberty  to  the  negro,  and  in  the 
moment  of  gushing  confidence  succeeding  this  procla- 
mation, he  contrived  to  elicit  all  the  private  informa- 
tion in  their  possession,  and  the  result  was  —  five 
thousand  pounds  of  bacon,  full  weight,  containing  rot- 
eaten  jowls  and  decayed  middlings,  the  refuse  of  the 
abundant  supplies  which  once  stocked  the  meat-houses 
of  the  inhabitants. 

An  incident  of  some  interest  in  connexion  with  this 
General,  in  view  of  later  events,  I  place  before  my. 
readers : 

A  young  cousin  of  Ellen  Eandolph's,  aged  about 
fifteen  years,  who  had  been  pursuing  his  education  in 
Europe,  arrived  in  Winchester  on  his  way  South. 
Hoping  that  his  youthful  face  might  pass  him  through 
the  lines,  he  determined  to  seek  an  interview  with 
General  Cluseret.  The  headquarters  were  pointed  out 
to  him,  and  obtaining  an  entrance,  he  found  himself 
in  a  luxurious  apartment,  where  sat  the  self-styled  La- 
fayette in  the  midst  of  orange  and  lemon  trees  and  hot- 
house flowers. 

The  boy  saw  before  him  a  tall,  thick-set  man,  with  a 
handsome  face,  set  off  by  the  national  moustache  and 
imperial.  He  was  not  dressed  in  the  Federal  uniform, 
but  had  evidently  copied  the  costume  of  '•  le  grand  mili' 
taire"  as  he  wore  the  high  boots  and  nankeen  shorts 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  205 

whicli  were  sacli  striking  characteristics  of  the  dress 
of  that  distinguished  individual,  and  beside  him  on  a 
chair  lay  a  cocked  hat. 

His  quick  eye  turned  upon  his  young  visitor  as  he 
entered  the  room,  and  he  rose  to  his  feet  in  surprise 
as  the  boy  addressed  him  in  his  own  language,  tell- 
ing him  his  story  so  far  as  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
know  it.  Finding  that  he  was  so  recently  from  Paris, 
and  that  though  so  young,  of  more  than  ordinary 
intelligence,  the  conversation  turned  upon  French 
politics,  and  the  General  asked  : 

"  What  is  the  opinion  in  Franco  at  present  with  re- 
gard to  the  American  war  ?  " 

"  Well,  Monsieur  le  General,"  replied  the  boy,  "  all 
of  the  respectable  organs.  La  France,  La  Patrie,  Le 
Const itiitionnel,  etc.,  reflecting  the  opinions  of  the  higher 
classes,  are  warm  partisans  of  the  South.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Eougcs  and  the  Socialistes,  represented 
by  L' Opinion  JSfationale,  sustain  the  North  " 

The  General's  reply  is  so  interesting  when  read  by 
the  light  of  the  Commune  that  we  give  it  in  his  own 
words : 

*•  II  vous  faut  savoir,  mon  petit  monsieur,  que  ceux 
que  vous  appelez  les  Eouges  et  les  Socialistes,  c'est  h 
dire  les  membres  de  la  Ligue  Eepublicaine,  m'ont  envoye 
en  Amerique  pour  les  representer  dans  cette  guerre 
centre  I'esclavage." 

"Le  petit  monsieur  "  deemed  it  prudent  to  make  no 
further  allusion  to  the  Eougcs  and  Socialists.  But  the 
mischief  was  done,  and  all  of  his  efforts  to  re-establish 
himself  in  the  good  graces  of  "  M.  le  Gen^'al "  were 
futile,  and  he  was  obliged  to  bow  himself  out  without 
his  passport,  all  for  being  too  well-versed  in  French 
politics. 


206  WOMEX,   on  CHRONICLES 

It  was  during  the  reign  of  Cluseret  that  the  people 
were  made  to  tremble  at  the  prospect  of  siill  greater 
evils,  for  General  Milroy  was  placed  in  command  of 
the  post  of  Winchester.  Ilis  reputation  had  travelled 
before  him,  and  the  women  knew  that  the  time  for 
girding  up  the  loins  of  their  minds  had  come,  as  their 
firmness  and  endurance  were  about  to  be  put  to  a  test 
of  no  ordinary  power. 

The  first  act  of  his  administrative  government  was 
the  issuing  of  a  rapid  succession  of  search-warrants, 
comprehending  all  of  the  Southern  houses  in  the  town, 
and  exceeding  in  thoroughness  and  roughness  of  exe- 
cution any  which  had  preceded  them.  There  Avas  les^ 
discipline  among  his  troops  also,  and  a  greater  disre- 
gard of  property  rights  than  had  heretofore  been  the 
case. 

Good  j\Irs.  Hason  had  been  summoned  to  Eichmond 
by  the  sad  death. of  her  son-in-law,  Charles  Marshall, 
he  having  been  killed  in  one  of  the  battles  before  Hich- 
mond,  leaving  his  young  widow  wild  with  grief  at  his 
loss,  and  crying  out  for  her  mother  as  the  only  hope 
and  comfort  left  her  in  her  bereavement. 

Her  absence  was  severely  felt  by  Mrs.  Eandolph  and 
her  daughter,  as  they  had  learned  to  regard  her  bright 
cheerfulness  and  livingfaith  as  essential  elements  to  their 
endurance  of  the  daily  trials  of  their  lives.  Mrs.  Ean- 
dolph was  one  of  those  gentle,  dependent  creatures  who, 
having  happily  been  relieved  from  the  necessity  for  exer- 
tion by  others,  had  never  in  her  life  found  out  whether 
there  was  any  strength  of  character  in  her  composition. 
She  must  always  have  some  one  upon  whom  she  could 
lean  —  her  husband  when  he  was  at  home,  then  Mrs. 
Mason,  and  now  that  this   prop  was  withdrawn   she 


OF  TBE  LATB  WAR.  207 

turned  despairingly  to  Ellen  (whom  sbc  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  regarding  as  too  young  to  be  of  any  use  in 
this  line)  as  her  only  stay  and  support.  Nor  did  she 
find  herself  so  destitute  as  she  expected,  for  the  young 
o-irl  proved  fully  equal  to  the  present  emergency,  and 
tvith  an  instinctive  knowledge  of  her  superior  strength, 
she  made  it  her  constant  aim  to  shield  her  timid,  deli- 
cate mother  from  the  vicissitudes  to  which  they  were 

subject. 

They  were  sitting  together  at  work,  about  a  week: 
after  General  Milroy's  arrival,  in  Ellen's  room  up  stairs, 
which  overlooked  the  main  street  of  the  town,  when 
Mrs.  Randolph  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  alarm  : 

«  Good  gracious,  Ellen,  here  is  another  provost-guard !" 
"  I  should  really  think,"  said  Ellen,  going  hastily  to 
the  window,  ^' that  General  Milroy  might  be  satisfied 
with  his  present  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  our 
establishment.  This  will  make  three  times  ho  will 
have  searched  the  house  since  his  arrival,"  and  she 
left  the  room  just  as  the  door-bell  sounded  noisily 
through  the  house. 

Mrs.  Eandolph  followed  her  in  a  moment,  and  when 
she  reached  the  hall  she  found  Ellen  had  opened  the 
door,  through  which  could  be  seen  about  a  dozen  men. 
One'of  them,  a  stout  Irishman,  in  Captain's  uniform, 
was  stating  his  business.  Mrs.  Eandolph  remembered 
him  as  having  conducted  the  search  of  the  day  before. 
"  Faith,  ma'am,"  said  he,  raising  his  cap  and  speaking 
with  an  unmistakable  brogue,  "I  have  an  orrder  here 
from  Gineral  Maleroy  to  priss  some  farniture  for  his 
sarvice,  and  remimbering  that  you  had  a  plinty,  I 
thot  I  might  maybe  find  sum  to  suit  him." 

"I   don't  understand   you,"   said   Ellen,   her  cheek 
paling  a  little. 


208  WOMEN,   OB  CHRONICLES 

''Will  now,  I  will  say  that's  vany  stbrangc  —  'tis  me 
Irish  brogue,  I  sposc.  Here,  John  Brown,  come  here 
and  till  the  lady." 

One  of  the  i:)arty  stei:>pcd  forward  and  told  in  very 
unmistakable  language  that  General  Milroy  was  fur- 
nishing a  house,  down  in  the  town,  from  the  houses  of 
the  citizens. 

"He  thot,'^  said  the  Irish  Captain,  *' it  a  thousand 
pities  that  there  should  be  so  much  good  Eibblc  farni- 
ture  in  the  town  and  he  with  niver  a  bed  to  lay  himsiif 
on." 

"Well,"  said  Ellen,  recovering  at  last  from  her 
stupefaction,  and  drawing  a  long  breath  as  if  she  had 
just  received  the  contents  of  a  bucket  of  cold  water  on 
her  head,  "this  is  certainly  a  highdianded  measure. 
]\Iamma,  do  jom  hear?  General  Milroy  has  sent  up  to 
take  what  furniture  he  needs  out  of  this  house  without 
leave  or  license." 

Mrs.  Eandolph  raised  her  hands  in  dismay  and  beat 
the  air  helplessly,  but  said  nothing. 

Turning  to  the  men,  and  speaking  with  a  voice  which 
quivered  with  the  passion  of  indignation  and  anger, 
which  she  struggled  in  vain  to  suppress,  Ellen  said : 

"You  have  no  right  to  it,  and  you  shan't  have  it!  " 

The  man  elevated  his  eyebrows,  turned  as  if  count- 
ing the  men  he  had  with  him,  and  then  glancing  mean- 
ingly at  the  two  helpless  women,  laughed,  but  said  not 
a  word. 

They  both  understood  him,  and  both  acknowledged 
the  truth  which  he  wished  to  convey. 

Mrs.  Randolj^h  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Ellen,  my 
child,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  use  of  resisting?  it  only 
adds  to  our  trouble.  We  have  no  means  of  carrying 
out  our  resistance." 

4 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAR.  209 

"I  wonder/'  said  Ellen,  Tvithout  answering  her 
mother,  "  that  you  are  not  all  ashamed  to  come  on 
such  a  mission." 

"  Faith  and  that  am  I,"  said  the  man,  looking  as  if 
he  enjoyed  his  shame  :  "  but  we  have  to  obey  orrders." 

'•'  It  is  nothing  more  nor  less,"  said  Ellen  "  than  rob- 
bery." 

^'Ah  now,  that's  hard  on  us.  In  pace  it  might  be 
robbery,  but  in  war  it's  pvissing." 

The  men  laughed  at  what  they  regarded  as,  at  the 
same  time,  a  good  joke  and  an  unanswerable  argument. 

''Why  does  not  General  Milroy  buy  what  furniture 
he  wants?"  said  Ellen,  controlling  herself  with  a 
great  effort,  and  speaking  in  a  low,  quiet  voice. 

"  Faith  now,  he  thinks  it's  chaper  to  get  it  without 
the  buying.  But  sure  and  he'll  give  ye  a  paper,  prom- 
ising to  pay  ye  for  the  farniture  at  the  end  of  the  war, 
if  ye  have  been  a  goot  and  loryal  citizen.  IlTow,  byes, 
we'll  git  to  wark  at  once.  Ah  '  '*  moving  out  an  old 
hall-sofa,  covered  with  green  morocco,  ''  this  will  plase 
the  Gineral  intirely.  He  kin  rist  here  whin  he  is  clane 
broke  down  with  the  affairs  of  State.  Take  it  out, 
byes." 

Poor  Mrs.  Eandolph !  The  tears  came  into  her  eyes 
as  they  followed  the  old  piece  of  furniture,  endeared  to 
feer  by  so  many  associations.  How^  many  scenes  did  it 
recall!  gay  scenes  and  sad  ones.  She  remembered  her 
own  home-bringing,  herself  the  bride  entering  her 
husband's  home  for  the  first  time,  and  this  sofa,  with 
its  look  of  homely  comfort,  was  the  first  object  which 
met  her  eye  as  she  stepped  across  the  threshold.  Dead 
friends  and  absent  friends  had  sat  there  with  her.  It 
had  been  the  favorite  meeting-place  of  the  family  in 


210  WOJIBIf,   OR   CHRONICLES 

the  long  warm  summer  evening.  She  saw  it  all 
Memory  swept  over  her  like  a  flood.  It  brought  up 
from  their  graves  her  dead  ohildrcn,  and  they  went 
clambering  and  tumbling  over  the  old  sofa,  as  full  of  life 
and  gladness  as  they  had  been  in  the  time  so  long  ago 
They  would  have  been  men  and  women  now,  and  all 
this  time  the  old  sofii  had  kept  its  place  in  the  hall ; 
and  she  grieved  as  over  the  disaffection  and  desertion 
of  a  tried  friend.  She  wiped  away  her  tears,  and 
turned  to  find  that  the  whole  party  of  men,  with 
Ellen,  had  disappeared.  Following  the  sound  of  their 
voices,  she  found  them  standing  beside  a  large,  old-fash- 
ioned bedstead,  with  tall  mahogany  posts  richly  carved. 

"  AVell  now,  by  jabers,  that's  a,  fine  bidstead,  in 
troth  that  is.  It's  meself  that  was  in  the  cabinet  busi- 
ness once,  and  I  knows  good  farniture  when  I  sees  it ;  " 
adding,  as  he  felt  over  the  mattress,  '•  And  sez  I  to  the 
Gineral,  sez  I,  there's  jist  the  farniture  to  suit  you,  sez 
I,  in  the  big  red  house  on  the  hill  there,  maning  this. 
He'll  be  plased,  he  will ;  this  will  suit  him  intirely." 

Mrs.  Eandolph  threw  herself  forward,  the  tears 
streaming  from  her  eyes. 

"Not  this,  gentlemen,  not  this;  take  anything  in 
the  house  but  this  I  Oh,  gentlemen,  are  none  of  you 
fathers?  Have  none  of  you  ever  seen  your  little 
children  die,  and  felt  the  place  where  they  lay  sacred 
to  you  ever  afterwards  ?  Four  of  mine  went  to 
heaven  from  here.  Here  I  gave  them  my  first  and 
last  kiss.  Take  anything  but  this  !  "  and  she  passed 
her  hand  softly  and  tenderly  over  the  pillow,  as  if  the 
face  of  the  dead  and  gone  still  lay  there. 

Ellen  had  followed  the  men  around  in  silence,  her 
fixed  paleness  and  passion-marked  face  alone  revealing 


OF  TIW  LATE   WAR.  211 

the  extent  of  mental  agitation  under  which  she  was 
suffering,  her  white  lips  pressed  together  as  if  in  si- 
lence alone  there  was  safety  from  the  mad  wrath  which 
tossed  her  like  a  tempest  in  view  of  these  outrages 
and  her  own  utter  helplessness  to  prevent  it.  Since  the 
first  exposure  of  this  weakness,  when  she  spoke  of  re- 
sisting their  authority,  she  had  not  spoken  a  word, 
if  a  ^xce  so  full  of  the  meaning  and  expression  of  all 
that  was  passing  in  her  mind  could  be  said  not  to 
speak;  but  stepping  forward  now,  she  said,  in  a  voice 
harsh  and  unmodulated : 

"  This  you  shall  not  touch !  Go  anywhere  else ;  there 
is  plenty  of  handsomer  furniture  up  stairs,  take  what  you 
please,  but  this  you  shall  not  have.  I  know  I  am  only  a 
v/oman,  but  I  believe  God  would  nerve  my  arm  to  resist 
you  in  the  commission  of  such  an  outrage." 

Whether  they  really  feared  to  test  her  courage  and  did 
not  care  to  use  force  with  a  woman  Avhen  it  could  be 
avoided,  or  were  touched  by  Mrs.  Randolph's  appeal 
(and  most  men  have  a  soft  spot  near  the  centre  of  their 
hearts  which  the  thought  of  a  little  dead  child  will  touch), 
certain  it  is  they  walked  very  quietly  after  Miss  Ran- 
dolph out  of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs.  She  led  them 
to  her  own  chamber,  which  had  been  tastefully  and 
expensively  furnished  for  the  only  daughter,  and  stood 
by  composedly  while  it  was  dismantled,  saw  one  article 
after  another  removed  with  hard  dry  eyes.  Beatrice 
de  Cenci  might  have  worn  some  such  expression  as  eat 
on  her  face  now  when  she  ordered  the  murder  of  her 
father. 

At  last  it  was  over  and  the  men  gone.  As  Ellen 
closed  and  locked  the  door  and  turned  back,  her  mother 
throw  her  arms  around  her,  crying: 


212  WOJIEX,  or.   CIlROyiCLES 

"Ah,  my  cliild  !  r\-\y  child  !  ^vhat  is  to  become  of  us?  " 

''God  will  take  care  of  us,  mother;"  but  with  no 
return  of  tenderness  and  softness  to  her  voice,  "  And  I 
am  thankful  that  He  does  punish  the  oppressor.  May 
His  punishment  come  swiftly  to  these  men." 

"Hush,  my  child  !  hush  ! "  said  Mrs.  Eandolph. 

"I  can't  help  it,  Mamma.  I  do — I  know  it  is  not 
Christian  or  womanly  to  feel  as  I  do  now,  and  I  shud- 
der at  the  sight  it  has  given  me  of  m}-  own  heart.  Oh, 
Mammal  Mamma!  let's  leave  everj'thing  and  go  through 
to  the  South  ;  these  scenes  will  destroy  us  body  and 
Boul." 

But  this  of  course  was  impossible.  They  had  to 
stay  and  protect,  as  far  as  they  might,  their  home, 
until  better  times  would  restore  the  missing  members 
of  the  household. 


VF  IHE  LATE  WAR,  213 


CHAPTEE    XXI. 

''Necessity  is  the  argument  of  tyrants."— William  Pitt. 

During  the  spring  Mrs.  Milroy  arrived  in  Winches- 
ter. This  may  seem  to  be  an  unimportant  event  to 
the  reader,  but  it  was  not  so  to  the  oppressed  people 
of  Winchester.  In  spite  of  General  Milroy's  gleanings 
from  the  different  houses  of  the  town,  Mrs.  Milroy 
was  dissatisfied  with  her  accommodations;  a  General's 
wife  should  bo  lodged  with  more  magnificence.  Mrs. 
Milroy  had  come  to  see  the  world,  and  she  determined 
to  see  it  only  through  rose-colored  glasses,  and  this 
medium  was  not  sufiaciently  abundant  in  the  i^resent 
headquarters  to  suit  the  wishes  of  the  lady. 

^'  Turn  some  of  them  Eebel  women  out,"  said  she, 
'*and  let  me  have  their  house." 

<' Who  shall  I  turn  out?"  said  the  indulgent  Bene- 
diet,  lifting  his  youngest  hope  upon  his  knee;  "pick 
your  house  and  you  shall  have  it." 

Little  did  the  householders  of  the  town  guess  how 
their  fate  hung  in  the  balance  of  this  decision.  They 
saw  the  General's  wife  walking  or  riding  around  mak- 
ing diligent  surveys^  but  were  far  from  divining  her 
purpose,  nor  was  it  an  easy  thing  for  her  to  decide. 
She  felt  quite  fretted  by  the  outlay  of  thought  it  re- 
quired to  choose  a  dwelling  from  so  many.  This  was 
the  finest  house,  and  those  the  finest  grounds;  this 
was  too  far  off  the  streets,  and  that  would  be  hot  and 
dusty  in  summer.  Day  after  day  passed  and  still  the 
decision  was  not  made. 


214  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

It  is  a  misfortune  when  one's  resources  are  inex- 
haustible;  or  at^least  Mrs.  Mih-oy  began  to  think  so. 
If  she  only  had  half  a  dozen  to  choose  from,  it  would 
bo  bettor.  '•'  Oh,  well,"  she  thoiii^ht  at  last,  '•  it  makes 
no  difForence.  If  I  don't  like  it  I  can  change  it ;  "  and 
forthwith  the  decision  was  made,  and  she  stood  by  in 
silent  admiration  of  the  genius  of  the  man  who  could, 
as  it  were  by  the  waving  of  a  wand,  provide  fine 
houses  for  his  family.  She  felt  almost  as  if  they  were 
living  in  the  Arabian  Nights' Entertainments,  and  Gen- 
eral Milroy  were  the  good  Genius,  and  she  one  of  the 
many  fortunate  princesses  who  were  created  for  the 
special  j)arpose  of  being  the  recipients  of  all  the  favors 
fortune  and  magic  could  heap  upon  them. 

True  to  his  word,  General  Milroy  announced  to  his 
wife  that  the  chosen  house  would  be  vacated  that  after- 
noon. *'  The  women  made  a  great  fuss,"  said  he,  "  but 
the  men  quite  enjoyed  the  fun  ;  and  I  will  send  them 
through  the  lines  this  afternoon." 

Mrs.  Milroy  thought  it  would  be  fun  too,  so  she 
made  ready  her  household  for  the  move,  and  was  at 
the  door  of  her  new  residence  before  the  time  fixed 
upon  for  the  flitting  of  the  former  owners.  She  be- 
came quite  impatient  at  the  little  delay. 

"  General  Milroy  ought  to  make  'em  make  haste ; 
the  children  will  take  cold  in  this  damp  air." 

Here  they  come  at  last  though  —  a  delicate  invalid 
lady  and  her  three  daughters  —  down  the  steps  and 
into  the  ambulance  which  was  to  convey  them  on  their 
journey,  exiles  from  their  home,  at  which  they  cast  a 
backward  glance  of  regret. 

Mrs.  Milro3',  with  little  of  the  sensitive  delicacy  which 
of  right  should  have  characterised  that  lady,  tripped 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  215 

from  her  vehicle,  followed  by  her  brood,  and  hur- 
rying as  if  in  fear  that  the  deposed  sovereigns  might 
not  sec  her  triumph,  installed  herself  in  her  new  home 
before  their  very  eyes. 

I  have  once  or  twice  touohed  with  a  tender  hand 
upon  some  little  failing  of  my  sex  with  no  unloving 
heart,  but  simply  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  truth. 
In  this  same  spirit  I  would  add  to  my  former  criti- 
cisms by  calling  attention  to  another  characteristic  of 
woman.  It  may  be  properly  styled  a  love  of  relating 
incidents.  It  is  in  one  view  of  it  a  very  virtue,  arising 
from  a  desire  for  sympathy  ;  in  another  it  leads  to  the 
evil  which  has  given  women  a  reputation  amongst 
men  as  gossips,  mischief-makers,  great  talkers,  and,  if 
it  must  be  confessed,  dangerous  persons.  It  was  this 
characteristic  which  made  Ellen  Eandolph  restless  and 
miserable  until  she  could  pour  into  some  listening  ear 
the  story  of  the  Milroy  trials,  beginning  with  the  im- 
pressment of  their  furniture  and  ending  with  the  ban- 
ishment of  Lucas. 

But  whom  could  she  tell  ?  The  fact  was  patent  to 
the  town  ;  and  although  she  might  talk  it  over  with 
Julia  Bell  or  some  other  of  her  friends,  and  both 
glean  and  give  some  new  particulars,  as  what  Mrs. 
Lucas  turned  and  said  as  she  left  the  house,  and  what 
Mrs.  Milroy  said  as  she  entered  the  house,  yet  it  was 
not  like  being  able  to  give  every  fact  new,  racy,  and 
exciting  to  a  fresh  audience  ;  and  for  this  opportunity 
Ellen  Eandolph  actually  pined. 

A  vent  for  her  pent-up  feelings  offered  itself  sooner 
than  she  expected ;  most  unfortunately,  as  it  turned 
out.  We  have  casually  mentioned  a  young  officer  of 
ths  Federal  army  who  by  the   chances  of  war  was 


216  WOMEN,   OR   CUROKICLES 

tbro-vYii  npon  the  tender  mercies  of  the  ladies  on  Fort 
Hill.  The  simple  incident  proved  the  starting-point 
for  a  train  of  circumstances  which  lasted  with  their 
effects  through  the  entire  war.  The  young  man  had 
continued  desperately  ill  for  many  weeks,  and  after 
some  time  his  mother  and  brother  came  on  to  assist  in 
nursing  him.  The  lady  proved  to  be  a  highly  accom- 
plished and  agreeable  inmate  of  the  Southern  house- 
hold, in  spite  of  the  radical  difference  in  politics  between 
them.  The  young  invalid,  too,  was  a  tie  between  them, 
and  they  found  it  was  impossible  to  remember  that 
they  were  enemies  beside  his  bed,  where  all  were 
equally  anxious  to  render  him  such  service  as  his  con- 
dition required.  So  it  ended  in  a  warm  friendship  be- 
tween the  parties,  and  when  after  about  six  weeks  passed 
together  the  young  man  was  able  to  be  removed,  they 
parted  with  warm  expressions  of  sympathy  and  affeo- 
tion  ;  and  upon  this  had  been  reared  a  correspondence 
between  Ellen  and  the  stranger,  which,  though  only 
carried  on  in  a  scattering,  Irregular  manner,  was  nev- 
ertheless productive  of  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  to  both. 
Ellen  in  her  letters  gave  graphic  pictures  of  their  lives 
of  change  and  excitement,  all  which  were  very  inter- 
esting to  her  correspondent,  living  as  she  did  "  under 
her  own  vine  and  fig-tree,  with  none  to  molest  and 
make  her  afraid." 

Well,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  a  letter  arrived  from 
this  lady  just  when  Ellen's  necessity  to  relate  became 
almost  uncontrollable,  and  she  determined  to  answer  it 
at  once  and  relieve  herself  of  the  burden  which  was 
becoming  too  heavy  to  bear.  For  obvious  reasons  she 
chose  fictitious  names  for  her  real  characters.  I  give 
a  quotation  from  the  letter ; 


OF   TEE  LATE  WAR.  217 

« ,  .  .  And  now  before  you  read  farther  I  want 
you  to  take  your  Bible,  and  turning  to  the  21st 
chapter  of  1st  Kings,  read  the  chapter,  and  then  listen 
while  I  give  you  a  second  edition  of  it  from  our  lives. 
"Our  JNaboth  the  Eebel  had  a  house  in  a  very  pleas- 
ant garden,  where  he  had  surrounded  himself  with 
everything  which  was  suitable  for  the  comfort  and 
convenience  of  his  household ;  and  when  he  went  off 
to  the  wars,  he  left  his  wife  and  daughters  well  provided 
for. 

":N'ow  it  happened  that  this  beautiful  house  of  Mr. 
Naboth's  was  hard  by  the  headquarters  of  General 
Ahab,  then  Commandant  of  the  post  at  Winchester; 
and  General  Ahab,  casting  his  eyes  upon  it  and  re- 
marking its  commodiousness,  its  fair  proportions  and 
its  admirable  situation,  desired  it  with  a  great  desire. 
Daily  would  he  bend  his  steps  or  his  horse's  steps  in 
the  direction  of  this  house,  and  hourly  did  he  present 
the  question  to  himself,  how  could  he  accomplish  his 
ends?  After  some  time  this  perplexity  and  this  un- 
gratified  desire  so  preyed  upon  the  mind  of  Ahab  that 
his  countenance  showed  the  traces  of  his  trouble,  and 
he  would  return  from  the  daily  inspection  of  the 
coveted  possession  heavy  and  displeased. 

"I^ow  what  a  man  lacks  in  himself  he  often  finds  in 
his  wife,  and  this  was  the  case  with  General  Ahab. 
Seeing  him  thus  going  about  daily  as  under  a  burden, 
Jezebel,  his  wife,  went  unto  him  one  day  and  said 
unto  him :  *  Why  art  thou  sad,  and  why  eatest  thou  no 
supper  ?  '  And  Ahab  answered :  *  Because  I  want  the 
house  of  Naboth  for  my  headquarters,  and  I  cannot  get 
it.'  Then  said  Jezebel  unto  him:  'Dost  thou  indeed 
command  the  post  of  Winchester  and  wan  test  what 
11 


218  WOMEX,   OB  CUROXICLES 

thou  darest  not  take!     Get  up  directly  and  cat  thy 
Bupper,  and  I  will  give  thee  the  house  of  Naboth.' 

"  So  Ahab  arose  and  ate  his  supper,  and  committed 
the  cause  to  Jezebel,  confident  that  she  would  accom- 
plish her  pleasure  without  assistance. 

"Then  Jezebel  wrote  an  order  in  Ahab's  name,  and 
scaled  it  with  his  seal,  and  sent  it  to  the  Captain  of  his 
Provost-Guard,  saj'ing:  'Take  with  thee  at  an  early 
hour  on  the  morrow  a  guard  of  some  dozen  men,  and 
go  to  the  house  of  Naboth  the  Rebel,  and  search  it 
diligently;  be  not  sparing  of  thy  patriotic  talk,  and  pro- 
voke the  women  to  answer.  Report  to  me  when  thou 
returnest.' 

"So  the  Captain  of  his  Guard  did  as  he  had  said, 
and  the  result  was  what  might  have  been  expected. 
The  words  of  the  women  were  reported  to  General 
Ahab,  and  he  saw  in  them  ample  ground  for  their 
banishment  from  the  town.  So  the  order  was  issued ; 
and  with  a  guard  over  them,  to  see  that  they  took 
nothing  out  of  the  house,  the  women  proceeded  to  get 
themselves  ready  to  start  that  evening. 

"  Xow,  Mrs.  Lucas  was  weak  and  sickly  in  body,  and 
the  physician  had  ordered  a  medicine  for  her  recovery, 
compounded  from  the  fat  of  the  cod-fish  liver.  And 
she  said  unto  the  Captain  of  the  Guard  :  '  Give  me  one 
of  my  silver  spoons  that  I  may  have  wherewithal  to 
take  my  medicine  prescribed  for  me  by  my  physician.' 

"  Then  answered  the  Captain  of  the  Guard  wrathfully: 
'  Thou  wife  of  a  perverse  and  rebellious  man,  thinkest 
thou  that  my  General  will  permit  thee  to  take  from 
this  house  any  of  the  valuables  it  contains  ?  Ko  ;  they 
are  lawfully  confiscated  for  thy  rebellion.  Ahab  hinx- 
self  has  use  for  thy  silver,'  and  he  walked  away  to 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  219 

order  that  a  closer  ^vatcli   should  be  kept  upon  the 
silver  and  the  gold,  the  hangings  of  the  windows  and 
the  silken  garments,  as  nothing  of  all  these  should  go 
to  strengthen  the  hands  of  this  most  wicked  rebeUion 
ao-ainst  the  best  Government  the  sun  ever  shone  upon, 
""it  must  be  confessed  that  our  young  herome  felt  a 
wicked  pleasure  in  writing  this  letter.     The  parallel 
Bhe  had  succeeded  in  making  pleased  her  extremely, 
thouo-h  in  her  inmost  heart  she  knew  it  was  a  de- 
parture    from   her   usual  prudence.      This   conscious- 
ness prevented   her  from  showing   the  letter  to  her 
mother,  as  that  lady  would  undoubtedly  have  forbidden 
her  sending  it.    It  also  made  her  hesitate  and  sit  thought- 
fully before  she  sealed  the  envelope.     The  result  of  her 
corritations  may  be  gathered  from  an  impatient  excla- 
mation she  gave  as  she  moistened  the  envelope  and 
closed  it  tightly :  "  Oh,  well,  my  letters  to  her  never 
have  been  opened;  and  one  can't  be  prudent  always. 
Just  this  once,  and  if  I  get  off  I  neverwiU  write  so 

again." 

She  directed  it  to  Mrs.  Commodore ,  U.  b.  IN., 

in  very  large  letters,  hoping  that  the  loyal  direction 
would  save  it  from  inspection.  Taking  it  to  the  office 
herself,  she  presented  it  to  the  military  postmaster  who 
officiated,  saying  to  him  nonchalantly: 

*-I  sealed  my  letter  without  remembering  that  you 
might  want  to  examine  it ;  but  I  can  easily  put  it  in 
another  envelope." 

^'No,"  said  the  man,  looking  diligently  at  the  direc- 
tion ;  "  I  suppose  she  is  loyal  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  very,"  said  Ellen,  elevating  her  eyebrows; 
"3-0U  see  she  is  the  wife  of  a  Commodore." 

"No,"  said  the  man,  throwing  the  letter  down,  ^'we 


220  WOMEN,  OR   CHRONICLES 

are  not  permitted  to  examine  letters  to  officers  or  their 
•wives.     That  can  pass." 

Is'ow,  notwithstanding  this  last  assertion  and  promise, 
if  Ellen  Eandolph  had  returned  in  another  minute  she 
would  have  seen  this  same  postmaster  manipulating 
her  letter  very  susi^iciously.  Holding  it  up  between 
him  and  the  light,  and  after  hesitating  a  moment,  as 
if  so  much  tribute  should  be  paid  to  his  conscience,  he 
proceeded  to  open  the  letter.  Instead  of  taking  it,  as 
he  undoubtedly  should  have  done,  as  an  exposition  of 
Bible  facts,  he  hurried  off  with  it  to  Milroy. 


OF  TE2^  LATE  WAB,  221 


CHAPTEE    XXII. 

" My  true  and  honorable  wife. 

As  dear  to  me  as  the  rudd}--  drops 
That  visit  my  sad  heart."— Shakspeare. 

"  l^ow,  tell  the  truth,  sir :  have  you  seen  anj^thing 
half  as  beautiful  since  you  left  home  ?  "  The  si-)eaker 
was  Margaret  Murray. 

"  I  can  freely  answer  '  no '  to  that,"  said  her  husband, 
stooping  his  tall  head  into  the  crib  and  kissing  the 
baby  face  which  lay  pillowed  there. 

It  was  a  pretty  domestic  picture,  complete  in  all  its 
parts,  and  the  individuals  composing  it  were  not  un- 
worthy representatives  of  a  happy  marriage  —  both  so 
well  matched  in  their  noble  height ;  he  with  his  rugged 
comeliness  and  she  with  her  queenly  beauty,  now  all 
softened  and  radiant  with  the  happiness  which  his  un- 
expected arrival  had  brought,  and  that  rare  specimen 
of  babyhood  upon  whom  Nature  had  lavished  so  boun- 
teously her  gifts.  Art  in  its  greatest  triumphs  never 
approached  the  exquisite  beauty  which  God  vouchsafes 
to  parents,  rich  and  poor  alike  — a  dancing,  glad 
"well-spring"  of  joy  in  the  household;  and  as  we 
look  at  this  picture  of  infantile  beauty  before  us,  we 
exclaim  with  the  exulting  young  mother :  "  Did  God 
ever  create  anything  more  beautiful  ?  " 

XJncontaminated  by  the  soil  of  life,  fresh  from  the 
hand  of  his  Maker,  His  last,  best  work  in  miniature— a 
thornless  bud,  an  immortal  soul  unconscious  of  its 
immortality,  the  germ  of  an  unknown  future,  a  seed 
from  which  might  spring  the  lofty  oak  spreading  its 


222  WOMEJ!i,   OR   CHRONICLES 

branches  and  its  roots  afar,  or  the  scrubby  sbrub 
blasted  and  dwarfed  by  the  east  wind. 

A  baby  is  a  solemn  as  well  as  a  glad  thing.  This 
one  lay,  however,  peacefully  unconscious  of  either  solem- 
nity or  gladness,  unless  the  half  smile  which  dwelt 
upon  the  rosy  lips  was  the  comment  upon  some  baby- 
dream  which  stirred  his  brain.  The  balmy  breath 
came  softly  and  healthfully  between  the  parted  lips, 
and  a  row  of  pearly  teeth  filled  up  the  vacancy;  his 
long  dark  eye-lashes  rested  upon  a  cheek  where  the  lily 
and  the  rose  delighted  to  mingle  their  purest  hues, 
while  his  hair  towsled  and  tumbled  in  rings  of  curl 
about  his  white  brow. 

Margaret  had  drawn  down  the  coverlid  to  show  how 
much  be  had  grown,  and  his  softly-rounded  dimj^led 
limbs,  displacing  with  their  restless  movement  the 
white  slip  in  which  he  was  dressed,  shone  as  only  baby 
flesh  can,  with  a  coloring,  a  texture  and  a  delicious 
softness  which  nothing  but  the  God  of  IS'ature  ever 
made. 

]S"o  wonder  Eobert  Murray,  with  one  arm  around 
the  "woman  whom  of  the  whole  world  he  would  have 
chosen  as  his  wife,  and  his  other  hand  caressingly 
smoothing  back  the  baby's  hair,  should  have  exclaimed : 
"God  is  very  good  to  me!  He  has  taken  such  care 
of  my  darlings.     I  thank  Him  for  it !  " 

*'  Didn't  you  pray  for  us  every  day  ? "  It  was  a 
question  simple  enough  for  a  child  to  have  asked,  and 
was  all  the  more  beautiful  coming  from  her. 

"  Of  course  I  did.  I  could  not  have  lived  from  day  to 
day,  knowing  the  dangers  to  which  you  were  subjected, 
had  I  not  felt  that  'Our  Father'  had  you  in  His  holy 
keeping,  just  where  I  had  placed  you  when  I  left  you, 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAJi.  223 

and  where  I  2')ut  you  afresh  every  hour  of  every  day 
since,"  and  ho  bent  over  and  kissed  her. 

Changing  her  position,  she  put  her  two  arms  about 
his  neck,  and  said  witli  the  gladdest  earnestness  in  her 
voice:  ''Thank  God!  for  bringing  my  husband  back 
to  me." 

But  baby  has  been  a  little  shaken  out  of  his  composure 
by  these  demonstrations  j  and  his  half-open  eyes  not 
fully  comjprehending  the  scene,  and  with  a  sad  lack  of 
penetration,  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  this  great 
bearded  monster  was  doing  something  dreadful  to 
"ilamma,"  commenced  a  little  frightened  whimper 
which  at  once  constituted  him  again  the  centre  of  at- 
traction. It  was  very  reassuring  to  see  his  captive 
Mamma  released,  and  to  feel  himself  in  her  arms,  the 
recipient  of  her  loving  kisses  j  but  still  the  great  serious 
eyes  dwelt  upon  the  stranger,  as  if  there  was  some 
link  to  be  taken  up  between  the  past  and  the  present 
which  his  baby-memory,  refused  to  supply. 

"Why,  don't  jo\x  know  your  father,  boy?  That's 
your  papa.     Where  is  Papa?" 

He  pointed  to  the  effigy  of  his  papa  which  hung 
upon  the  wall,  but  resolutely  refused  to  recognise  any 
more  palpable  living  essence  in  that  relation. 

^'  Pshaw,  how  provoking ! "  said  Margaret,  really  wor- 
ried.    *'  Show  him  your  watch,  Eobert." 

He  seemed  to  distinguish  the  watch  with  a  rather 
higher  degree  of  regard  than  the  man,  but  was  still 
somewhat  indifferent  to  the  whole  concern. 

"]S'ow  let  me  manage  matters,"  said  Mr.  Murray, 
aroused  at  Margaret's  anno3''ance ;  and  seating  him- 
self in  a  large  arm-chair,  he  drew  her  with  the  baby  in 
her  arms  upon  his  knees,  and  trusted  to  the  influence 


224  WOMEN,  OR  CUR0NIGLE8 

of  time  and  their  united  relations  to  overcome  tho 
evident  antipathy  of  his  son  and  heir  for  his  person. 

"Ah  me !  it  is  very  delightful  to  be  here  again." 

"If  it  would  only  last,"  said  ^largaret. 

"  Well,  don't  blot  out  the  light  of  God's  sun  with 
your  own  clouds,"  said  he,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  but  I  think  you  would  take  to  cloud-making 
too  if  you  had  to  be  left  to  the  dreadful  Yankees." 

"  I  don't  expect  you  have  many  troubles  which  arc 
not  mine ;  only  greater  because  of  conflicting  duties, 
and  the  having  to  surrender  my  position  as  your  pro- 
tector, leaving  you  to  endure  discomforts  from  which  I 
have  no  power  to  free  you." 

She  looked  up  in  surprise  at  the  feeling  expressed  in 
his  voice,  and  never  doubted  afterwards  who  had  the 
largest  share  of  the  troubles  of  their  lives. 

"  Your  father  and  myself  are  thinking  of  moving  you 
all  to  Eichmond,"  continued  Mr.  Murray.  "  The  war 
is  growing  more  fierce  as  it  progresses,  and  there  is 
less  prospect  of  its  ending  soon  now  than  when  it  be- 
gan. If  he  can  get  a  tenant  for  the  house  I  think  we 
will  go.'* 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  delightful !  "  said  Margaret,  her 
face  fairly  beaming  with  the  anticipation. 

"  My  only  doubt  on  the  subject  is  this,"  said  her  hus- 
band :  "  whether,  or  not,  it  is  right  to  crowd  Eichmond 
with  food-consumers,  now  that  everything  is  getting  so 
high  and  scarce." 

**0h,  well,  we  won't  eat  much,  will  we,  Eobby,  if 
Papa  will  only  take  us  with  him  ?  " 

Eobby  answered  "^o"  very  stoutly  and  decidedly; 
it  being  one  of  the  few  words  he  could  say,  he  made 
the  most  of  it. 


OF  TUB  LATE   WAR.  225 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mary  made  her 
appearance. 

"Well,  I  think  that  is  a  family  chair,"  said  she, 
laughing  at  the  closely  united  family  party. 

"  Yes,  we  are  going  to  housekeeping  in  some  such 
apartment,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "  as  Margie  tells  me  that 
Sarah  has  gone  off  with  all  of  our  valuables." 

"  Indeed  she  has.  If  you  could  only  see  Glen  Burnie 
now  !  I  really  do  not  think  you  would  know  the 
place—  everything  torn  to  pieces.  The  last  we  heard 
from  there  was  that  Sarah  had  gone,  and  the  soldiers 
were  sleej)ing  all  over  the  house  except  the  kitchen, 
which  they  had  generously  given  up  to  the  horses." 

"  Hum  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Murray,  but  his  face  showed 
how  sensitively  he  was  touched  at  the  idea  of  the  dese- 
cration of  his  pretty  little  home,  where  Margie  and 
himself  had  found  such  simple  and  true  happiness. 
Folding  his  arm  tighter  around  his  wife  and  boy,  how- 
ever, he  said  : 

*'  It  is  hard ;  but  with  such  blessings  spared  I  have  no 
room  for  complaint," 

"  Oh,  pshaw ! "  said  Mary,  in  pretended  disgust ; 
^'  you  married  people  are  so  disagreeable  ;  you  don't 
think  or  care  for  anybody  but  yourselves." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Margie,  laughing  gleefully,  "  we  let 
in  our  friends  on  the  outskirts  of  our  hearts,  while  we 
keep  the  centre  place,  where  it  is  warmest." 

"  Look  !  look  at  the  baby !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Murray. 

Yes,  the  wonderful  baby  had  caught  an  idea  at  last. 
During  the  whole  time  he  had  been  sitting  perfectly 
quiet,  his  sober  eyes,  still  with  the  remains  of  sleep  in 
them,  travelling  from  the  familiar  picture  on  the  wall 
to  its  living  counterpart  beside  him,  and  now  a  light 
11* 


22G  WOMEX,   on  CUROXICLES 

breaking  all  over  his  baby  face,  and  pointing  from  one 
to  the  other,  he  said  : 

"  One  Papa  —  two  Papa  !  " 

He  certainly  was  a  wonderful  child  for  two  yeara 
old.  Margie  said  so,  and  she  ought  to  know;  and  Mr, 
Murray  and  Mary  confirmed  her,  so  the  fact  no  longer 
admitted  a  doubt.  Margie  even  expressed  it  as  her 
opinion  that  his  early  development  of  talent  could 
not  lead  in  a  position  short  of  the  Presidency  of  the 
Confederate  States,  or  a  position  either  in  the  pulpit  or 
the  forum,  where  listening  thousands  would  hang  upon 
his  lips.  They  were  very  foolish, "doubtless,  but  happy 
people  often  are,  and  enjoy  their  foolishness  too. 

It  was  a  sudden  check  which  Mary's  frightened  ex- 
clamation gave  to  the  group.  She  had  been  standing 
at  the  window  looking  down  the  road,  and  now  cried 
out : 

''  Yankees  !  Yankees  !  Oh,  brother  !  hide  !  hide  ! 
The  road  is  full  of  them,  and  they  are  coming  as  fast 
as  they  can  1  " 

Before  she  had  done  speaking  they  had  joined  her  at 
the  window,  and  received  confirmation  of  her  alarming 
news  from  the  sight  which  met  their  eyes.  About 
fifty  men  in  blue  uniforms  were  rapidly  approaching 
the  house. 

Margaret  threw  her  arms  around  her  husband,  and 
for  the  space  of  a  second  everything  was  in  confusion ; 
only  a  moment,  however,  as  there  was  no  time  for  the 
indulgence  of  agitation.  Every  one  must  act  promptly 
and  decisively. 

"  Mary,"  said  Captain  Murray,  "  try  and  make  your 
way  out  of  the  house,  and  if  there  is  a  negro  on  the 
place  you  can  trust,  have  my  horse  turned  out  in  tho 
woods.     They  must  not  find  him  here." 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAR.  227 

Mary  was  gone  almost  before  he  had  finished  speak- 
ing. 

"Now,"  continued  he,  tui-ning  to  his  wife  and  Mrs. 
Holcombe,  who  had  just  come  in  disma^^ed,  "you  two 
know  the  house  better  than  I  do.  Think  of  some 
place  to  hide  me,  for  if  I  mistake  not,  the  man  who 
rides  at  the  head  of  that  column  is  my  old  enemy.  Dr. 
Burton"  (Margie  had  told  him  of  their  encounter), 
<'  and  I  would  fare  badly  if  he  got  hold  of  me." 

The  very  thought  seemed  to  nerve  Margaret  Murray. 
"Mamma,"  she  said,  *' manage  to  keep  them  down 
stairs  five  minutes,  and  I  will  arrange  for  him." 

All  this  passed  so  rapidly  that  the  five  minutes  had 
almost  elapsed  before  they  had  time  to  dismount  and 
reach  the  house  up  the  long  flight  of  steps  from  the 
lawn.  At  once  they  surrounded  the  house,  and  about 
twenty  men,  with  Burton  at  their  head,  unceremoni- 
ously entered  the  house.  Mrs.  Holcombe  met  them  at 
the  door,  deadly  pale  but  not  otherwise  discomposed. 

"Ah,  madam,  I  hope  I  see  you  well,"  said  Burton, 
showing  his  teeth,  and  trying  to  cover  over  his  ex- 
pression of  wicked  triumph  with  an  insinuating  ad- 
dress. 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  said  the  lady.  "  To  what 
do  we  owe  the  pleasure  of  Dr.  Burton's  presence  ?  " 

"  To  the  desire,  madam,  to  be  the  first  to  pay  my  re- 
spects to  my  old  friend.  Captain  Murra}^,"  and  he 
looked  at  her  keenly,  nor  did  it  escape  him  that  her 
eyes  closed  for  a  second  as  if  in  prayer,  while  her 
cheek  grew  paler. 

"I  am  happy  to  say  that  Dr.  Burton  will  not  find 
my  brother  here  to-day,"  was  the  evasive  answer  as 
she  framed  her  lips  into  the  miserable  ghost  of  a  smile. 


228  TFOJ/^iY,  OR  CHRONICLES 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  must  contradict  you.  I  am  sorry 
to  interrupt  the  blissful  reunion  with  his  wife  ;  but  my 
desire  to  renew  my  acquaintance  with  him  is  so  intense 
that  I  cannot  even  wait  for  the  ordinary  ceremony," 
and  he  directed  three  of  the  men  to  remain  below,  and 
the  rest  to  ascend  the  stairs  with  him.  He  had  scarce, 
however,  placed  his  foot  on  the  bottom  step  when  they 
heard  a  voice  singing  a  nursery-tune,  and  Margaret 
Murray,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms,  appeared  above 
him,  coming  down.  She  started  very  naturally  when 
she  came  in  view  of  the  armed  men,  but  in  an  instant 
was  her  calmest,  coolest,  most  dignified  self,  and  seemed 
only  intent  upon  quieting  the  little  boy  who  clung 
frightened  to  her. 

Burton  was  not  easily  deceived,  however.  He  came 
upon  definite  information,  and  knew  the  perfect  self- 
control  of  the  woman  before  him  too  well  to  allow  it 
to  afPect  him.  So  when  she  came  forward  and  said 
with  well-affected  surprise : 

"Dr.  Burton!  we  had  no  idea  you  were  in  the 
neighborhood,  or  that  you  would  care  to  pay  poor  old 
Eose  Hill  a  visit,  knowing  as  you  did  her  empty 
larder." 

"  If  her  larder  is  empty,  madam,''  he  said,  with  one 
of  those  contortions  of  the  lips  which  could  scarcely 
be  called  a  smile,  though  it  showed  his  double  row  of 
white  teeth,  "  I  believe  her  population  has  been  in- 
creased by  the  arrival  of  Captain  Murray,  to  whom  I 
wish  to  pay  my  respects." 

"It  is  a  pity  you  should  be  too  late,"  said  she,  smil- 
ing. "  You  would  doubtless  both  of  you  have  expe- 
rienced equal  pleasure  in  the  meeting." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Murray,  you  are  a  very  good  ac- 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  229 

tress,"  said  the  Doctor,  *'  but  it  does  not  deceive  me 
in  the  least.  I  act  upon  positive  information,  and 
must  see  my  old  friend  if — if — yes,  ma'am," — bowing 
to  her,  and  speaking  in  a  low,  meaning  tone — "  I  may 
as  well  say  it,  if  I  have  to  tear  the  old  house  down 
brick  by  brick." 

If  there  had  been  less  at  stake  she  must  have  suc- 
cumbed before  the  menace  in  the  tone  more  than  the 
words.  But  Margaret  Murray  knew  that  by  her  wit 
and  her  self-control  alone  could  she  save  her  husband 
and  the  greater  her  apprehension  the  more  serene  her 
composure. 

*'  That  will  be  hardly  necessary,"  she  said.  "  There 
are  not  many  nooks  and  corners  at  Eoso  Hill  where  a 
man  of  my  husband's  size  could  hide,"  and  he  thought 
she  triumphed  in  his  very  size,  while  in  spite  of  him- 
self ho  could  not  help  feeling  dwarfed  by  the  compari- 
son he  knew  she  was  making. 

"But,"  she  went  on,  "if  we  desired  it,  we  know 
how  irresistible  Dr.  Burton  is  when  he  comes  with 
an  army  at  his  back,  and  we  would  not  venture  to 
deny  him  anything  he  asks.  The  house  is  open  to 
him  ;  he  can  go  where  he  pleases.  We  would  like, 
if  we  thought  it  any  use  to  ask,  that  our  private  apart- 
ments might  be  left  unmolested,  but  we  know  too  well 
what  the  answer  would  be." 

Her  quick  glance  took  in  the  fact  that  the  men  who 
followed  him  were  not  unimpressed,  though  he  was  as 
confident  as  ever. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  continued,  "  I  may  go  with  you  as 
conductor.  The  house  is  a  large  one,  and  you  might 
become  bewildered;  and  who  knows,  in  these  war 
times,  that  you  might  not  encounter  bushwhackers  at 
some  obscure  corner  ?  "  and  she  laughed. 


230  WOMEIf,  OR  CHRONICLES 

It  seemed  to  be  an  unpleasant  suggestion,  and  one 
or  two  of  the  men  drew  back.  Upon  her  answering 
for  their  safe-conduct,  however,  and  herself  going  be- 
fore, thej^  followed  very  willingly. 

Putting  her  baby  in  Mrs.  Holcombe's  arms,  she  went 
before  the  long  line  of  armed  men  up  the  long  staircase 
with  as  stately  a  step  as  in  the  days  of  her  greatest 
prosperity. 

"  I  venture  to  make  a  suggestion,"  she  said,  well 
knowing  that  the  very  circumstance  would  inaugurate 
an  oi^posite  course,  "  and  that  is  that  you  begin  at  the 
very  top  of  the  house  and  come  down.  You  will  then 
be  able  to  satisfy  yourself  that  no  spot  has  been  passed 
over." 

"Never  mind,  madam,"  said  Burton,  with  a  smile; 
"  we  would  prefer  dispensing  with  your  valuable  sug- 
gestions. We  will,  I  think,  begin  here,  by  3'our  leave," 
and  he  unceremoniously  opened  the  door  of  her  room. 

Even  her  self-control  almost  gave  way  as  she  saw 
her  chamber,  where  but  a  few  moments  since  she  had 
been  so  happy,  desecrated  by  the  presence  of  these 
men.  One  or  two  of  them  seemed  to  feel  the  sting  it 
must  give  her,  and  without  permission  drew  back  on 
the  threshold.  She  understood  them,  and  smiled  as 
she  passed  gratefully.  She  might  have  been  mistaken, 
but  she  could  not  help  thinking  that  Burton  intended 
a  thrust  at  her  in  every  movement  he  made  in  that 
room  —  there  was  such  an  unnecessary  exactness  and 
thoroughness  in  the  search  ;  the  most  imj^ossiblc  places 
were  looked  into. 

"Tour  keys,  madam,"  he  said,  as  he  tried  one  of  her 
bureau  drawers. 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  handing  them  to  him,  "  you  do 
not  expect  to  find  my  husband  there  ?  " 


OF  THE  LATE   ^^i^-  231 

Ho  langbed.  *'  No  ;  but  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  loob: 
for  traces  of  him." 

Ah,  how  that  proud  woman  loathed  the  thought 
that  in  her  mistaken  youth  she  had  ever  had  any  con- 
nection with  this  man,  who,  with  cool  and  impertinent 
indelicacy,  fingered  her  clothing.  If  he  intended  to 
move  her  out  of  her  stolid  composure  he  succeeded,  as 
with  her  face  flaming  with  indignation  she  interposed, 
and  closing  the  drawer  said  : 

"  Surely  this  is  unnecessary,  sir!  Your  business  is 
to  hunt  for  my  husband,  not  to  insult  me  !  " 

He  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled  r^rati- 
fiedly  over  his  small  revenge  upon  this  woman,  whom 
he  would  almost  have  sacrificed  his  life  to  conquer,  to 
see  her  humiliated,  in  his  power ;   but  so  far,  do  what 
he  would   she   seemed  to  rise    triumphant   above   his 
efforts,  untouched  and  unassailable  in  her  pride  as  ever. 
Ah,  how  he  groaned  and  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage 
at  his  impotency,  and  vowed  that  through  him   she 
loved  best  she  should  become  what  in  his  wickedness 
and  hate  he  so  fiercely  longed  to  see  her.     But  it  did 
not  seem  as  if  he  was  to  be  gratified  even  here,  for  the 
search  progressed  without  sign  of  result ;  every  room, 
from  garret  to  cellar,  and  even  to  the  top  of  the  house, 
the  way  to  which  led  up   through  a  dark  loft,  into 
which  some  of  the  men  ventured  timidly,  remembering 
her  untimely  little  joke  about  the  bushwhackers.    Mar- 
garet sat  down  on  the  steps  and  watched  them,  with 
no  shade  of  anxiety  on  her  face  or  in  her  manner,  her- 
self every  now  and  then  pointing  out  a  pile  of  rubbish 
which  had  eluded  their  vigilance.     Even  Burton  began 
to  doubt  at  last ;  he  could  not  believe  that  any  spot  had 
escaped  him. 


232  WOMFX   OR   CURONICLES 

Though  discouraged  and  wearied  with  the  oarnest- 
ness  of  his  efforts,  Captain  Brown  —  for  wc  will  here- 
after give  him  the  name  by  which  he  was  known  to 
his  companions  —  still  tried  to  devise  new  resources. 
Again  and  again  did  he  return  and  search  some  more 
suspicious  spot  over  again,  as  if  he  could  not  bear  lo 
give  up  this  precious  morsel  of  revenge  just  as  it  had 
touched  his  lips. 

A  third  time  he  reached  the  front  hall,  where  all 
his  men  were  collected,  waiting  orders.  Flushed  with 
the  exertion  he  had  been  making,  baffled  in  his  evil 
designs,  he  stood  irresolute,  his  military  cap  in  one 
hand,  and  with  the  other  wiping  the  perspiration  from 
his  brow.  Turning  suddenly  upon  llargaret,  where 
she  stood  calm  and  resolute  r.t  a  little  distance,  he  was 
sure  he  caught  an  expression  of  relief,  a  brightness, 
perhaps  of  triumph,  upon  her  face.  In  an  instant  it 
was  gone,  but  he  could  not  divest  himself  of  the  idea 
that  it  had  been  there.  He  ordered  the  search  to  begin 
again.  "With  increased  interest  the  men  followed  and 
aided  him.  Margaret  would  have  remained  behind, 
but  he  insisted  upon  her  accompanying  him,  and  she 
felt  that  his  eyes  were  ever  on  her  face,  scanning  it 
eagerly,  almost  fiercely,  for  some  change  of  expression 
which  would  be  a  guide  to  him.  But  she  was  on  her 
guard  now;  and  when  that  was  the  case,  with  her  hus- 
band's liberty  and  perhaps  life  to  bo  played  for,  Mar- 
garet Murray  could  defy  the  closest  inspection;  but 
she  was  wearied,  and  showed  it,  particularly  when 
again  he  turned  towards  the  steps  leading  from  the 
top  story  of  the  house  to  the  loft. 

"I  can  go  no  further,  Dr  Burton,^'  she  said  faintly, 
though  even  his  keenest  investigation  could  detect  no 
approach  to  uneasiness  in  her  manner. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  233 

Even  the  rough  soldiers  seemed  to  feel  for  her ;  she 
had  been  so  uncomplaining  before,  so  brave  through  it 
all. 

"Well,  Captain,  I  guess  we  will  have  to  give  it  up," 
said  one.  "I  don't  think  a  mouse  could  have  escaped 
us  to-day  ;  let's  go." 

He  hesitated,  then  turned  to  her.  "  If  you  will  give 
me  your  word  that  this  husband  of  yours  is  not  under 
this  roof,  I  will  believe  jou.  and  go  away." 

"  God  keep  her  firm  now."  "God  help  me  to  trust 
Him  and  do  my  duty,"  were  the  prayers  which  ascended 
from  two  hearts;  the  one  rising  in  the  darkness  and 
confinement  of  his  narrow  hiding-place  under  those 
very  stairs  against  which  she  leaned,  and  the  other  as 
an  echo  from  the  heart  of  the  woman  who  stood  there 
with  that  undaunted  front,  but  where  the  blood  be- 
neath the  surface  beat  and  dashed  in  wild  commo- 
tion. 

"  Dr.  Burton  has  neither  been  kind  nor  considerate 
enough  to  me  to  merit  any  confidence  at  my  hands. 
He  has  had  no  restrictions  placed  upon  his  will,  let  him 
finish  his  search ;  I  will  go  with  him,"  and  hastily 
mounting  the  stairs  she  stepped  out  first  upon  the 
roof  of  the  house,  where  the  pure  air  of  heaven  came 
like  a  boon  to  cool  her  heated  brow,  bringing  to  her 
tried  heart  the  confidence  that  the  gracious  Father 
who  thus  cared  for  the  small  needs  of  His  children 
would  not  forsake  her  now  ;  nor  did  He.  Down  again 
they  tramped  by  the  point  where  her  heart  stood  still, 
and  the  search  of  the  house  was  over.  As  the  men 
went  out  gladly  to  mount  their  horses,  Captain  Brown 
returned. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  am  foiled,  but  not  convinced. 


234  WOML'H,   OB  CHRONICLES 

Your  woman's  wit  may  have  saved  your  husband  this 
time.  Bat  take  warning;  I  shall  have  my  watchers 
around,  and  if  I  find  that  it  is  as  I  suspect,  and  he  is 
concealed  in  this  house,  I  shall  hold  you  accountable 
for  it." 

She  bowed  her  lofty  head  as  graciously  as  a  queen  to 
a  lowly  subject,  and  turned  away  without  a  word. 
Even  at  the  last,  then,  she  had  made  him  feel  small 
and  impotent.  Could  he  have  read  her  heart,  he  would 
have  seen,  "  How  puny  his  paltry  assertions  of  power 
seem  when  God  reigns  in  the  heavens  and  over  the 
earth  !  " 

She  heard  his  loud  voice  in  command  to  his  men, 
saw  the  whole  party  ride  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
negro-quarters ;  and  although  she  knew  that  he  would 
certainly  find  out  there  that  Captain  Murray  had  been 
there  during  the  day,  yet  not  one  fear  crossed  her. 
She  knew  that  the  same  God  who  struck  with  blind- 
ness the  enemies  of  His  servant  Lot,  so  that  they 
"  wearied  themselves  to  find  the  door,"  was  watching 
over  her.  She  saw  them  from  where  she  stood,  talking 
long  and  earnestly  to  the  people,  and  then  ride  off  to 
the  stables.  But  the  horse  was  gone,  and  they  were 
forced  to  conclude  that  he  had  made  his  escape. 
Quietly  she  waited  there  until  she  saw  them  return  ; 
and  when  the  last  horse  and  its  rider  entered  the 
grove,  forgetting  fatigue  and  everything  else,  up  the 
stairs  she  flew  to  release  her  dear  prisoner. 

The  hiding-place  was  a  favorite  one  with  her  when 
she  was  a  child.  The  steps  leading  from  the  loft  to  the 
top  of  the  house,  though  having  every  appearance  of 
stability  and  firmness,  were  in  reality  so  constructed  that 
by  the  removal  of  some  props  and  folding  them  under, 


OF  TEE  LATE   WAB.  235 

they  could  be  made  to  disappear  entirely  in  an  aperture 
arranged  for  them  in  the  wall.  It  was  in  this  cramped 
niche°that  Mr.  Murray  had  remained  all  of  these  hours, 
and  from  this  he  emerged  as  the  sound  of  his  wife's 
voice  announced  to  him  that  the  danger  for  the  present 
was  over.  In  a  moment  she  was  in  his  arms,  the  reso- 
lute  woman  all  lost  and  weeping  like  a  very  child  on 
his  bosom. 

"  My  brave  wife  !  My  darling  !  "  he  said. 
"  Don't,  don't,  Eobert !  don'fc  give  me  any  credit 
about  it ;  God  did  it  all.  I  never  could  have  stood  the 
long  trial  if  I  had  not  felt  that  our  prayers  were  going 
lip  together,  and  that  He  would  bring  you  out  safe."  ^^ 
*•  And  what  made  you  stop  just  at  my  hiding-place  ?  " 
said  he  in  talking  it  over  with  her  afterwards,  while 
Mary  kept  watch  at  the  window. 

"Because  I  saw  one  of  the  men  who  had  sympa- 
tmsed  with  me  very  much  throughout,  going  round 
to  investigate  more  closely,  and  he  would  have  found 
you.  I  knew  I  could  recall  him  by  an  appeal  to  his 
sympathies,  which  I  could  make  truly,  as  I  was  per- 
fectly worn  out." 

At  midnight  he  made  his  escape,  with  Uncle  Bob's 
assistance ;  but  treacherous  eyes  marked  his  flitting 
—  a  spy  from  the  household,  paid  to  be  on  the  watch 
through  the  entire  night,  and  the  next  morning  the 
fact  was  reported  to  Captain  Brown,  who  raged  like 
a  wild  animal  at  the  news,  and  with  awful  oaths  swore 
that  the  woman  who  had  thus  far  been  the  bane  of  his 
life,  should  triumph  no  longer,  but  that  very  night 
should  recognise  him  as  master. 

Before  he  left,  Margaret,  unable  to  bear  up  against 
those  accumulated  trials,  obtained  from  her  husband  a 


236  WOJIEy,   OR  CHRONICLES 

promise  that  the  next  sweep  of  the  armies  over  the 
country  he  would,  with  Mr.  Holcombc's  consent,  remove 
the  whole  family  to  Eichmond. 

"But remember,  my  brave  darlinsj,"  said  he,  "that He 
who  has  brought  you  hitherto  w^ill  not  forsake  you 
now.  And  though  He  should  bring  trials  greater  than 
you  have  yet  conceived  of,  it  is  only  the  fire  which 
consumes  the  dross  and  leaves  the  pure  gold,  and  is 
kindled  by  a  loving  Father's  hand." 

It  was  not  long  before  she  had  cause  to  recall  those 
parting  words.     But  Ave  will  not  anticipate. 


OF  XUE  LATE  WAR.  237 


CHAPTEK    XXIII. 

"  On  Monday  aiorning,  just  at  ten  o'  d»*.      ,  ... 

As  Ellen  hummed  <  Tbe  Young  May  Moon   the  while, 
Her  ear  was  startled  by  t'^adouWe  knock  „_g 

Which  thrills  the  nerves  like  an  electric  shocK.  —  uood. 

Three  daya  passed  over  the  family  in  the  old  red 
House  on  Fort  Hill  after  the  events  narrated  a  few 
T,ao-es  back.  Three  uneventful  (luiet  days  passed  by 
the  mother  and  daughter  in  sober  home-interoourse 
shut  out  as  far  as  possible  from  the  outside  present, 
and  livino-  in  the  past  and  future;  (luiet  days  filled  up 
with  talk  of  absent  friends,  from  whom  they  were  now 
so  sadly  separated.  Once  or  twice  Ellen's  thoughts 
had  travelled  off  after  her  letter,  and  she  smiled  to 
think  of  how  cleverly  she  had  drawn  that  P<^rallel;she 
even  half  wished  in  her  daring  temerity  that  Milroy 
could  have  had  a  sight  of  it. 

She  was  sitting  one  day  with  her  work  in  hand, 
turning  over  in  her  mind  whether  she  might  not  ven- 
ture, now  the  danger  was  over,  to  make  Mamma  laugh 
over  her  pleasant  conception,  when  the  door-bell  r.ang. 
In  times  of  peace  the  ring  of  a  door-bell  is  a  matter 
either  of  minor  importance  or  of  congratulation,  as 
usherino'  in  to  the  domestic  circle  some  dear  or  conge- 
nial friend;  but  in  time  of  war  it  always  brings  with 

it  a  thrill  of  apprehension,  as  the  herald  of  misfortune. 
Ellen's  face  therefore  flushed  as  she  went  to  open  it 
"Good  morning,  ma'am,"  said  a  tall,  slim  specimen  ot 

manhood  who  stood  in  the  porch,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes 

of  beady  brightness  on  Ellen's  face:   "your  names 

Kandolpb,  I  presume?" 


238  WOMEN,  OR  CEROmCLES 

"  It  is,  sir,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  Waul  now,  I've  got  a  letter  here,  wrote  by  one  of 
you,"  drawing  as  he  spoke  Ellen's  incendiary  epistle 
from  his  pocket.^ 

There  was  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  the  man  who 
was  the  writer,  when  he  saw  the  blood  recede  from 
the  young  girl's  face,  while  all  the  results  of  her  folly 
suddenly  rose  up  before  her. 

"Let  me  see,"  she  said  tremulous!}',  holding  out  her 
hand  for  the  letter,  more  to  give  herself  time  for 
thought  than  from  any  idea  that  she  could  glean  in- 
formation from  its  contents. 

"No,  I  thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  man,  rudely 
putting  the  letter  behind  him,  "this  here  lett#'s  too 
walable  for  you  to  ketch  hold  on,"  walking  into  the 
house  at  the  same  time. 

His  manner  went  very  far  towards  restoring  the 
lost  equilibrium  of  Ellen  Randolph.  If  a  lady  sees 
herself  in  danger  of  insult,  her  instinct  teaches  her 
that  the  best  protection  is  in  dignified  coolness  ;  so  she 
said,  seating  herself  and  facing  the  inevitable  : 

"  Oh  well,  it  is  a  matter  of  no  importance.    ]Mrs. 

is  my  correspondent,  and  I  know  all  the  contents  of 
the  letter." 

"You  do,  do  you?  Well,  don't  you  feel  skeared  at 
the  conscquens  to  you  of  that  there  letter  ?  " 

"  uS'ot  very  much,"  said  Ellen,  after  some  compro- 
mise with  her  conscience.  "  One  should  never  be  afraid 
of  telling  the  truth." 

"'  Truth  !  "  said  the  man  :  "  why,  this  letter,  young 
'oman,  is  a  very  volume  of  lies." 

"Sir!"  said  the  young  lady,  rising  indignantly', 
*'  how  dare  you  speak  in  that  way  to  me  !  " 


OP  TUB  LATH   WAR. 


239 


<.Oh,shur  now,  thoy  aiu't  t,o  use  patt.n  on  any  o 
your  yairs  ^vilh  mo.  I  is  an  old  ,nan,  w,th  gals  o  rny 
own  e.  I  knows'om  frona  a  to  i.zavd  ;  en  I  knows  how 
to  broke  'cm  in,  too,  the  same  as  a  boss." 

■<  Then  as  I  decline  being  broke  in  the  same  as  a 
hor.c  I  shall  have  to  avoid  disagreeable  consequences 
by  l"eaving  the  room,"  and  the  young  lady  rose  up  to 
put  her  threat  into  execution. 

^  But  it  seems  Miss  Randolph  forgot  that  she  ^as  not 
quite  her  own  mistress,  for  interposing  himself  between 
her  and  the  door,  the  man  said  :  ••  ,  „„. 

"AVaal  now,  look  yere,  young  'oman,  you  jist  set 
down  thar  whar  you  is.  I  don't  want  to  have  no 
fuss,  but  you  ain't  goin'  to  leave  this  room  tell  I  talk 
over  this  yere  matter." 

Ellen  bad  no  option  and  took  her  seat. 
Taking  his  stand  so  as  to  guard  the  door,  the  man 
asain  took  up  the  letter.  „ 

"  Ton  sez,  I  think,  that  you  wrote  this  yere  lettei  ? 
Ellen  bowed  her  head  in  dignified  response.  ^  _ 
"Waal,I  s'pose  you  knows  what  your  punisnment 
will  be  fur  this  bit  o'  treason  ?  "  a  ,  ,„t  T 

"I  suppose."  said  she,  with  bitter  sarcasm,  that  1 
will  be  sent  to  Di.ie  for  speaking  the  truth.  It  is  not 
a  virtue  which  can  be  tolerated  on  this  side  of  helmet, 
and  that  punishment,  as  we  Winchester  people  know, 
is  the  order  of  the  day."  .  „ 

"  No  •  you'll  be  imprisoned  in  a  fort  during  the  ^yal, 
said  the  man,  with  a  threatening  emphasis  of  his  head 

'^  EUeTliandolph's  blood  was  «p,  and  she  could  more 
easily  have  laid  her  head  on  the  block  with  the  g  earn 
in.  steel  above  it  than  to  have  showed  signs  of  fcai 


2-iO  WOMEy,  OB  CHROmCLEQ 

before  this  man  who  thus  lowered  himself  to  the  task 
of  intimidating  a  woman.  Her  lip  curled  contempt- 
uously as  she  said  : 

"  I  am  no  child  to  be  frightened  by  scarecrows. 
Well  do  I  know  that  General  Milroy  would  hesitate 
long  before  my  story  was  presented  to  his  Government 
for  investigation.  I  have  but  spoken  the  truth,  in 
strong  terms  it  may  be,  but  the  fact  admitted  of  no 
other.  You  can  send  me  to  Dixie  without  the  matter 
being  canvassed  beyond  this  town,  but  I  am  not  in  the 
least  apprehensive  about  anything  else." 

"  One  effective  shot  lost,"  acknowledged  the  man  to 
himself,  and  he  fell  back  upon  a  series  of  philosophising 
arguments  about  the  impropi-iety  of  such  conduct  in 
general  and  this  item  in  particular,  all  which  seemed  to 
be  eminently  satisfactory  to  himself,  but  rather  ex- 
hausting to  the  nerves  of  the  young  lady  whose  fate 
just  now  hung  in  a  very  delicate  balance.  Interrupt- 
ing at  the  point  where  endurance  ceased  to  be  a  virtue, 
she  said. 

"I  would  prefer^  if  you  have  no  objection,  waiving 
this  whole  question  of  expediency  and  returning  to  the 
matter  immediately  under  discussion.  The  deed  is 
done  now,  and  it  is  no  use  to  regret.  It  only  remains 
for  me  to  hear  what  you  intend  to  do  with  that  letter.'* 

Thus  brought  up  suddenly,  and  made  to  face  the 
question,  "  Waal,  ef  you'll  promise  me  that  you  won't 
do  so  no  more  never  again,'*  said  the  man,  losing  him- 
self hopelessly  in  this  crowd  of  negatives,  and  turning 
the  letter  over  in  his  hand,  "  I'll  burn  the  letter." 

Ellen  Randolph  half  smiled  as  she  recalled  the  days 
of  her  childhood,  with  its  sins  and  punishments  averted 
by  a  promise  "  to  be  good  and  not  doso  any  more," 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  241 

but  it  did  not  prevent  a  sufficient  infusion  of  indigna- 
tion with  the  thought  to  flush  her  cheek  to  a  deeper 
crimson  as  she  said  : 

"  I  decline  to  submit  to  any  dictation  from  you,  sir, 
or  to  bind  myself  by  any  promises  which  a  recurrence 
of  such  acts  as  this  may  make  it  impossible  for  me  to 
keep.     But  I  don't  believe  General  Milroy  has  any  real 
right  to  punish  me  for  a  mere  personal  offence.      I 
have  done  nothing  against  his  Government;   on  the 
contrary,  in  the  last  part  of  my  letter  to  my  friend  I 
said  that  I  knew  that  the  United  States  Government 
would  disclaim  such  acts,  and  that  I  knew  it  was  only 
the  petty  tyranny  of  the  Post  Commander." 
"Yes,  but  you'd  have  sent  it  to  his  own  people." 
''And  is  not  General  Milroy  willing  that  his  actions 
should  be  submitted  to  the  investigation  of  his  own 
people  ?  ^' 

''  Waal,  it  ain't  no  use  to  talk  about  this  no  longer," 
said  this  negative  character,  taking  the  only  avenue  he 
saw  to  escape  from  a  lost  field.  ''  I'm  a  good  friend  of 
these  Winchester  people  ;  I've  done  'em  many  a  good 
turn  that  they  don't  know —  have  watched  over'^'em 
like  a  father." 

"Eatherlike  a  spy,"  said  Ellen.  "I  think  I  have 
heard  of  you;  you  are  Captain  Purdy,  the  detective." 

"  That's  my  name,  madam.  JSTuthin'  a^in'  the  name 
I  hope  ? "  to  , 

"  Xo,"  said  Miss  Eandolph,  ''  not  against  the  name, 
for  I  often  feel  sorry  for  an  innocent  name  which  suf- 
fers from  its  mere  connection  with  its  owner." 

"Look  yere,  young  'oman,  you're  too  peart  by  half  • 
but  fur  all  that  I  feel  kindly  disposed  to  you.  I  must 
take  this  letter  down  town  now,  but  I  raly  think  I'll 
1  -I 


242  WOME^^',  OB   CUEOXICLES 

come  back  in  about  two  hours  and  burn  it ;  so  you 
needn't  be  afeard  about  it  agin'." 

^'  Why  not  burn  it  now  ?  "  said  she  ;  "  what  is  the 
use  of  taking  it  away  at  all  ?  " 

"  ^Yaal,  you  know,  I've  tuk  a  oath  to  do  my  duty,  en 
I've  never  yit  broke  a  oath.  En  what's  more,"  raising 
his  voice  and  speaking  emphatically,  as  if  he  were  an- 
nouncing a  fact  of  wonderful  significance,  "  I've  got 
three  brothers,  en  we  none  of  us  has  ever  broke  a 
oath  !  "  and  he  nodded  his  head,  as  who  should  say, 
"  There's  an  honorable  family  for  you  •  beat  that  if  you 
can  !  " 

Ellen  answered  with  a  laugh  which  grated  painfully 
in  its  lack  of  mirth  and  fulness  of  bitterness. 

'■''  Ah^  indeed  !  We  do  not  account  that  so  worthy 
of  remark  in  this  country.  We  have  several  large  fam- 
ilies in  the  South  w^ho  have  been  equally  scrupulous." 

The  soul  of  honor  looked  somewhat  taken  down 
from  the  pedestal  he  had  erected  for  himself  by  the 
news. 

*•'  Waal,  at  any  rate,"  said  he,  with  a  manifest  effort 
to  keep  himself  up  to  the  mark,  "  I  must  go  down  en 
read  my  oath  over  en  see  what  it  tells  me  to  do  ;  fur 
if  it  orders  me  to  give  you  up  to  punishment,  bad  as 
I'd  hate  it  I'll  do  it.^' 

"  Do  you  expect  to  find  in  it  a  special  specification 
with  regard  to  my  letter  ?  "  said  Ellen  ;  "  if  so,  it  must 
be  a  very  comprehensive  oath.'* 

This  last  stroke  placed  him  completely  under  the 
weather,  and  he  made  no  answer  save  to  rise  hastily 
and  make  off,  as  if  afraid  to  utter  another  word  which 
would  provoke  an  encounter  of  wits.  All  Ellen  heard 
as  he  left  the  house  was  — 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  243 

"  Waal,  I'll  come  back  in  two  hours'' 

Now,  although  Ellen  Eandolph  stood  her  ground 
bravely  in  this  battle,  it  was  with  a  sinking  heart  that 
she  now  forced  herself  to  look  the  danger  in  the  face, 
and  much  would  she  have  given  if  her  one  act  of  folly 
could  have  been  undone.  Her  mother  was  so  utterly 
dependent  upon  her,  so  delicate  and  timid,  that  her 
daughter  thought  with  dread  amounting  to  horror  of 
her  being  taken  from  her ;  but  she  was  forced  to  think 
of  and  provide  against  this  possible  contingency.  At 
first  she  thought  she  would  not  tell  her  anything  about 
it,  but  trust  to  her  possible  escape  from  the  danger; 
but  further  consideration  convinced  her  that  such  a 
course  would  be  unwise,  and  going  to  her  at  once  she 
told  her  the  entire  story.  Agitated  and  excited  Mrs. 
Eandolph  certainly  was,  but  bore  it  altogether  better 
than  Ellen  had  anticipated. 

The  two  hours  specified  by  Purdy  passed  by  and  he 
did  not  return.  The  day  wore  itself  away  and  still 
there  was  no  news  of  him.  Towards  evening  the  story 
spread  through  the  town  of  threatened  trouble  to  the 
Eandolphs,  and  their  friends  flocked  up  to  ofi'er  sym- 
pathy and  counsel,  though  no  one  could  ofi'er  help.  It 
was  a  case  which  depended  upon  the  caprice  of  a 
single  man,  and  things  must  take  their  course. 

The  night  passed  in  troubled  thought  to  Ellen.  She 
could  not  divest  herself  of  the  fear  that  the  danger 
was  not  yet  over,  though  the  length  of  time  which  had 
elapsed  since  Purdy's  visit  rather  authorised  the  hope 
that  the  offence  had  been  passed  over.  Mrs.  Eandolph 
regarded  it  in  that  light,  and  rose  from  her  pillow 
with  spirits  renewed  by  her  night's  rest. 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen,  as  the  two  stood  together  in  the 


244  WOMEN,   OR   CHRONICLES 

hall  after  breakfast, ''I  shall  be  better  satisfied  after 
the  day  is  over.     I  confess  I  do  not  feel  safe  yet." 

*'  Well,  I  do,"  said  her  mother ;  "  I  feel  confident 
that  if  they  intended  to  carry  out  the  threat  it 
would  have  been  done  yesterday." 

Her  confidence  in  her  own  convictions,  however,  was 
not  proof  against  the  loud  ring  of  the  door-bell,  which 
robbed  her  cheek  of  every  ray  of  color,  and  sent  her 
staggering  and  reeling  across  the  passage. 

"Mamma,"  said  Ellen,  '*  please  go  to  your  room,  and 
whatever  happens  don't  let  them  see  you  give  way  ; 
let  us  prove  worthy  of  our  dear  cause." 

Mrs.  Randolph  tottered  down  the  hall,  and  Ellen 
heard  her  crying  out  as  she  went :  ''  God  help  me ! 
God  hejp  her  !  " 

Ellen  opened  the  door.  Their  fears  were  not  ground- 
less, as  PurJy  stood  in  the  entrance,  with  a  soldier  be- 
hind him,  bearing  a  gun  over  his  shoulder. 

"  "Weli,"  said  Purdy,  by  way  of  greeting,  "  how  long 
will  it  take  you  to  get  ready  to  go  to  Dixie  ?  " 

"A  very  short  time,"  said  Ellen,  as  composedly  as  if 
he  had  proposed  a  walk  down  the  street  to  her. 

"  I  have  only  half  an  hour  to  give  you,"  said  the 
man,  whoso  prime  object  evidently  was  to  make  her 
beg. 

She  saw  through  his  intentions  instantly,  and  deter- 
mined that  if  she  must  die,  she  would  "  die  game." 

*'I  don't  ask  any  more,"  said  she. 

Purdy  was  evidently  disconcerted.  He  felt  sure 
when  it  came  to  the  point  she  would  succumb,  and  he 
mio'ht  possibly  claim  the  merit  of  saving  her  from  the 
punishment ;  but  he  did  not  know  the  material  he 
had  to  deal  with.  He  did  not  give  np,  however.  Step- 
ping past  her  into  the  hall,  he  said: 


OF  TBE  LATE   WAR.  245 

"  Poes  your  mother  know  this  ?  " 

<'  Of  course  not,"  said  Ellen,  a  chill  passing  over  her 
at  the  thought  of  her  mother;  *'  but  I  can  tell  her." 

Mrs.  Eandolph's  room  was  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
and  hearing  distinctly  this  conversation  through  the 
half-open  door,  she  now  made  her  appearance,  and  be- 
fore Ellen  could  reach  her  she  sank  almost  unconscious 
on  the  floor.  Kneeling  beside  her  and  putting  her 
arms  around  her,  Ellen  said  : 

*'  Mamma,  dear  Mamma !  try  and  bear  it.  What 
would  Aunt  Annie  tell  us  if  she  was  here  ?  Wouldn't 
she  say  that  our  Father  in  heaven  had  sent  this  trial 
for  some  good  end  ?  '  We  are  persecuted,  but  not  for- 
saken ;  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed.'  " 

Mrs.  Eandolph  was  incapable  of  speaking,  though 
she  heard  all  her  daughter  had  said. 

Purdy  had  followed  Ellen,  and  now  at  the  sound  of 
his  voice  she  looked  up,  and  found  his  hateful  face 
over  them.     This  was  his  last  chance. 

"I  tell  you  what  you  do,"  he  said  :  "you  sit  down 
and  write  a  letter  to  General  Milroy,  asking  him  to  let 
you  stay,  and  I  will  guarantee  that  he  will  receive  it 
and  let  you  stay/' 

"And  I  tell  you  what/'  said  Ellen,  the  white  heat  of 
her  rage  speaking  in  her  voice  through  her  closed 
teeth,  "  I  would  not  do  it  to  save  his  life  and  yours  this 
moment:  I  have  done  nothing  wrong,  and  of  course 
have  no  apology  to  make." 

"  But,"  said  the  man,"  you  see  the  condition  in 
which  your  mother  is.  Surely  you  will  not  leave  her 
this  a- way." 

Then  life  and  courage  came  back  to  the  poor  broken 
woman.     She  vindicated  her  sex  in  her  weakness.     For 


246  ViOMEX   OR  CHRONICLES 

the  first  time  probably  in  her  life  her  character  as- 
serted itself  and  stood  alone.  Eising,  almost  -without 
assistance,  she  said  with  firmness  and  dignity  : 

''Apologise  to  General  Milroy  !  No,  sir,  not  with  my 
consent.  I  would  rather  die  in  parting  with  her  than 
see  her  humiliated." 

Purdy  had  no  more  arrows  in  reserve ;  his  quiver 
was  empty.  These  two  Virginia  women  were  invul- 
nerable.    So,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  said : 

"  I  would  have  helped  you  if  you  had  let  me.  This 
man,"  pointing  to  the  guard  with  the  gun,  "  must  see 
you  pack  joxxv  trunk  ;  and  be  sure,  sir,"  to  the  man, 
"that  nothing  contraband  goes  into  them.  I  will  be 
back  in  half  an  hour  with  the  ambulance,"  and  he 
walked  out  of  the  house. 

By  this  time  the  news  had  spread,  and  the  hall  was 
already  full  of  sympathising,  grieved,  and  angry  women. 
None  but  those  who  have  witnessed  such  scenes  can 
ever  know  the  desperate  helplessness  of  a  community 
under  the  circumstances.  That  man's  home  is  his 
castle  is  a  feeling  indigenous  in  the  heart  of  every 
man.  It  may  be  that  the  great  fountain-head  of  Eng- 
lish jurisprudence.  Sir  Edward  Coke,  planted  the  seed 
of  it  when  he  said  as  early  as  1580  : 

*'  The  house  of  every  one  is  to  him  as  his  castle  and 
fortress,  as  well  for  his  defence  against  injury  and  vio- 
lence as  for  his  repose." 

Or  Pitt,  who  in  1783,  in  his  spirit-stirring  notes  an- 
nounced: 

"  The  poorest  man  may  in  his  cottage  bid  defiance  to 
all  the  force  of  the  Crown.  It  may  be  frail ;  its  roof 
may  shake ;  the  wind  may  blow  through  it ;  the 
storms  may  enter, —  but  the  King  of  England  cannot 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  247 

enter.  AH  his  forces  daro  not  cross  the  threshold  of 
the  ruined  tenement." 

Or  it  may  be  it  is  only  old  Mature  in  the  heart  of 
every  one  of  her  children  asserting  the  sacredness  and 
strength  of  home  by  the  deep  feeling  of  resentment 
at  the  T\^rong  of  its  invasion. 

But  General  Milroy  laughed  Coke,  Pitt,  and  N'ature 
to  the  winds,  snapped  his  fingers  in  derision  at  the  puny 
strength  of  the  King  of  England  and  his  forces,  and 
crossed  the  threshold  defended  only  by  women,  with 
his  own  unaided  arm.  But  even  ho,  in  the  person 
of  these  his  vicegerents,  could  not  help  a  feeling  of 
shrinking  almost  akin  to  fear  at  the  outraged  indigna- 
tion which  burned  in  the  faces  of  these  weak  children 
of  !N"ature  at  the  violation  of  her  kind  laws,  by  which 
she  extends  the  arms  of  her  protection  around  the 
frail  and  defenceless.  The  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
a  body  of  armed  men  could  thus  enter  a  private  house 
and  take  away  a  lady  from  its  sacred  protection  was 
heartrending.  Woman-like,  no  two  individuals  of  the 
assembled  crowd  took  it  quite  in  the  same  way.  Helen 
May,  a  gentle,  fair  girl,  sat  with  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  while  Julia 
Bell  stood  beside  Ellen,  helping  her  to  pack  her  trunks, 
and  at  the  same  time  using  her  tongue  vigorously. 

The  Yankee  soldier  meanwhile  looked  on  ;  nor  was 
he  the  least  to  be  pitied  of  the  party.  He  seemed  to 
be  a  decent  man,  and  his  situation,  thus  forced  to  su- 
perintend the  sacred  mysteries  of  a  young  lady's  ward- 
robe, was  anything  but  pleasant  to  him,  particularly 
when  for  want  of  a  better  they  made  him  the 
scapegoat  for  the  whole  sins  of  the  Government. 

*'  Indeed,  ladies,"  he  said,  as  he  wiped  the  drops  from 


248  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

his  face,  ''I  can't  helxD  it;  it's  a  miserable,  dirty  busi- 
ness for  any  man  to  have  to  do." 

"  You  can't  touch  pitch  without  being  soiled,"  said 
Julia  Bell.  "You  can't  stay  in  Milroy's  army  without 
being  called  on  to  do  dirty  work." 

"Hush,  Julia,"  said  Ellen,  "  let  mo  do  the  talking. 
They  are  doing  the  worst  they  can  to  me,  and  my 
tongue  is  loosed ;  but  they  may  exile  you  too  if  you  give 
them  a  chance.  Just  whisper  any  feeling  you  wish  ex- 
pressed to  me,  and  I  will  say  it ;  and  glad  am  I  of  it,  too, 
as  I  may  never  have  another  chance.  Here,  sir,"  to 
the  man,  "you  are  not  watching;  I  shall  report  your 
unfaithfulness  to  Captain  Purdy.  1  have  j^ut  in  one  or 
two  articles  of  clothing  which  you  have  not  seen." 

''Indeed,  ladies,  I  can't  help  it,"  reiterated  the  man, 
manipulating  his  face  with  his  red  cotton  pocket-hand- 
kerchief again. 

"  Let  him  alone,  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Eandolph,  the  milk 
of  her  human  kindness  drawn  out  by  his  evident  suf- 
fering; "the  poor  man  is  obliged  to  obey  orders ;  he 
can't  help  it." 

"He  volunteered  to  do  it,"  said  Julia  Bell  pitilessly; 
**he  likes  it.  Did  you  ever  see  keener  enjoyment?" 
and  they  all  laughed  bitterly  at  the  poor  man's  face 
of  utter  misery. 

Ellen  was  down  on  her  knees  before  her  trunk, 
packing  it  as  rapidly  as  she  could,  while  every  one 
else  assisted  her,  when  a  step  in  the  passage  was 
quickly  followed  by  the  appearance  of  the  redoubtable 
Purdy,  swaggering  in  with  his  hat  on  his  head,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  with  the  self-importance  of  a 
"monarch  of  all  he  surveyed."  It  was  the  first  time 
in  his  life  that  he  had  ever  commanded,  or  even  per- 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  249 

liaps  glanced  into  the  circles  of  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
and  ho  made  the  best  of  his  opportunities. 

"Waal,  we're  ready,"  he  said. 

"I  am  not,"  said  Ellen  emphatically,  turning  her 
flaming  face  upon  him,  which  in  every  lineament  dared 
him  to  the  conflict. 

"  Waal,  you  must  go,"  said  Purdy. 

«  The  half  hour  is  not  out  yet,"  said  Ellen,  glancing 
at  the  clock  on  the  mantel. 

"I  can't  help  it;  my  time  is  precious,"  said  the  man. 

"Mine  is  equally  so,"  said  Ellen  coolly. 

"  Waal,  you  7nust  go." 

The  tone  in  which  this  order  was  given  supplied 
the  rose-leaf  which  overflowed  the  cup.  Eising  to  her 
feet,  her  eyes  fairly  flashing  with  anger,  and  speaking 
in  that  peculiar  low  tone,  with  a  quiver  and  a  clearness 
in  it,  which  always  in  a  woman  denotes  a  fearful  state 
of  nervous  excitement,  she  answered  him  : 

"  Captain  Purdy,  it  is  time  we  understood  each  other 
more  clearly.,  I  need  no  key  to  read  you  ;  it  is  done 
fully.  You  are  less  quick,  or  it  may  be  I  am  less  read- 
able, but  I  tell  you  now :  You  came  here  to  take  me 
from  my  home  (which  you  have  no  right  under  the 
sun  to  do),  but  with  a  brute  force  to  enforce  your  will, 
which,  weak  woman  that  I  am,  I  am  obliged  to  obey. 
You  graciously  allowed  me  half  an  hour  to  get  ready — 
not  a  very  long  time  for  a  lady  to  make  preparations 
to  leave  home  for  an  indefinite  period  —  and  before  the 
allotted  time  is  out,  you  order  me  to  leave.  Now,  sir, 
I  tell  you  I  will  not,  until  I  am  ready.  I  don't  care  if 
the  half  hour  is  out,  you  can  sit  down  and  wait  my 
convenience." 

Purdy  muttered  something  like  "She-devil"   under 


250  wo:men,  or  curonicles 

liis  breath,  but  he  did  not  attempt  to  hurry  her  again. 
Seatiijg  himself  on  the  other  side  of  the  trunk,  with  a 
vulgar  curiosity  which  the  other  man  had  been  far 
from  displaying,  he  watched  the  operation  of  packing, 
officiously  offering  his  services  to  assist  every  now  and 
then,  which  Ellen  invariably  and  indignantly  de- 
clined. 

The  scene,  albeit  it  had  its  comic  side  too,  was  painful 
from  the  intense  bitterness  it  had  awakened  in  the 
breasts  of  these  women,  destroying  at  a  blow  the  soft- 
ness of  nature  which  is  their  greatest  charm.  Even  these 
rough  men  shrank  from  the  spectacle  almost  a2:)palled. 
It  was  the  turning  of  the  worm  Avhen  trodden  uj^on,  the 
outraged  nature  asserting  itself  against  its  oppressors. 
There  they  were  with  their  inflamed  cheeks,  flashing 
eyes  and  cutting  tongues,  a  terrible  picture  of  woman- 
hood transformed  by  oppression  and  wrong. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Ellen,  holding  up  a  Bible  before 
Purdy,  "that  I  may  take  this  with  me,  or  is  the  Word 
of  God  considered  contraband  of  war  ?  " 

The  man  answered  sulkily  that  she  could  take  it 
but  he  didn't  see  it  had  done  her  much  good. 

''  ^o,  God  forgive  me !  I  believe  Satan  reigns  in  my 
heart  to-day,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  sudden  revulsion  of 
feeling  which  brought  a  refreshing  dew  into  her  hard 
dry  eyes ;  only  for  a  second  though,  the  fire  was 
burning  too  hotly  to  be  quenched  by  such  inconsider- 
able heart-showers. 

"Let  me  put  down  the  trunk  for  you,"  said  Purdy, 
stepping  forward  with  a  repulsive  smile. 

"No,"  she  said,  with  an  irrepressible  shudder,  "don't 
touch  anything  belonging  to  me.    Julia,  come  and  help 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  251 

Purdy  drew  back  with  a  wicked  laugh  as  the  two 
girls,  one  mounted  on  the  trunk  and  the  other  tugging 
at  the  lock,  with  tremhling  fingers  succeeded  in  fastening 
it  at  last. 

"And  now  I  am  ready,"  said  Ellen.  "Mamma! 
Mamma !  -plense  don't  make  me  cry,"  she  whispered,  as 
her  mother  threw  her  arms  about  her;  <'it  would  be 
such  a  gratification  to  that  man  to  see  one  even  of  my 
tears,  and  he  never  shall !  The  girls  have  promised  to 
take  care  of  you  and  keep  you  from  missing  me,  and 
when  our  men  come  in  I  will  be  with  them,  and  Papa 
and  myself  will  take  you  back  to  Eichmond.  Good-bye, 
girls !  take  care  of  Mamma.  Oh,  Julia,  remember  I 
leave  her  to  you  all  as  a  sacred  charge." 

Every  woman  in  the  crowd  except  Ellen  was  weeping 
now ;  some  sobbing  out  cheerful  words  and  mingling 
laughter  and  tears  in  sad  confusion ;  all  bidding  her  be 
brave  and  not  forget  that  she  merely  suifered  in  the 
cause  in  which  they  all  had  a  part.  The  last  embrace  was 
given,  and  the  poor  exile  started  towards  the  ambulance 
which  stood  there  waiting  for  her. 

*<  Ellen !  Ellen  !  "  cried  out  Julia  Bell,  as,  with  her  face 
turned  the  other  way,  Ellen  was  crossing  the  pavement 
towards  the  vehicle,  "  please  don't  let  those  men  touch 
you." 

Ellen  turned  and  found  three  or  four  of  the  men  had 
followed  her,  and  were  about  to  put  her  up  the  high 
step  of  the  ambulance. 

"  Stand  back,  gentlemen,'^  she  said  defiantly,  "  I  don't 
need  your  help,"  and  she  got  in  without  any  assistance. 
Her  trunks  were  put  in  after  her,  and  three  men  took 
their  places  also  ;  and  so  with  no  earthly  protection  but 
her  own  brave  heart,  she  started.     The  last  sound  her 


252  W0M£:N,   OB   CERONICLES 

friends  heard  from  her,  was  :  "  G  ood-bye,  Mamma ;  don^t 
grieve,  God  will  take  care  of  me.  Good-bye,  girls  ;  take 
care  of  Mamma,  and  all  of  you  pray  for  the  exile,''  and 
she  was  gone. 

Some  of  the  girls  followed  her  at  a  distance,  saw  the 
ambulance  stoj)  for  a  few  moments  at  the  Provost 
Marshal's  office,  Avhere  it  was  surrounded  by  a  cavalry 
guard  numbering  about  twenty-five  men,  all  full}"  armed 
and  equipped,  and  then  on !  A  formidable  array  to  bear 
from  her  home  a  helpless,  innocent  woman. 

AYoman-nature  in  some  of  its  aspects  is  a  strange 
study,  and  one  of  its  rarest  phases  was  presented  in 
the  person  of  the  young  lady  who  sat  thus  helpless 
and  alone  in  the  vehicle  which  vras  conveying  her  be- 
yond the  reach  of  her  home.  In  ordinary  times  the 
mere  mental  picture  of  such  a  situation,  in  the  hands 
and  at  the  disposal  of  armed  enemies  whom  she  had 
defied  and  angered,  must  have  thrown  her  woman's 
heart  into  spasms  of  terror;  but  tbat  heart  had  thrown 
aside  its  gentler  elements  and  doffed  an  armor  w^hich 
defied  womanly  fear.  Had  she  permitted  herself  to  relax 
so  far  as  to  enter  into  an  analysis  of  her  feelings,  she 
would  have  been  amazed  at  herself,  as  she  felt  no  more 
emotion  of  terror  than  if  she  had  been  seated  in  her 
own  peaceful  home  in  times  of  peace  and  prosperity. 

The  curtains  of  the  ambulance  were  fastened  down 
tightly,  and  she  could  only  see  out  of  the  front  open-- 
ing ;  but  after  they  had  progressed  nearly  to  the  end 
of  town,  she  heard  a  clanking  and  commotion  around 
her  vehicle  which  excited  her  wonder.  Turnino; 
around  she  forcibly  opened  one  of  the  leathern  cur- 
tains, and  to  her  surprise  saw  herself  surrounded  by  an 
armed  force  of  cavalrymen.     Instead  of  being  fright- 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  253 

ened,  tlie  utter  ludicrousness  of  the  whole  thing  struck 
her,  and  the  reaction  upon  her  -wrought-up  feelings 
brought  a  laugh,  genuine  and  full  of  amusement.  The 
three  men  in  the  ambulance  at  the  unexpected  sound 
turned  towards  her,  with  their  surprise  fully  written 
out  upon  their  faces,  and  Purdy  asked : 

"  Wat's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

"  I  only  want  to  know,"  said  Ellen,  controlling  her- 
self with  an  effort,  and  speaking  with  what  seriousness 
she  could  command,  "  how  many  men  it  takes  to  guard 
one  poor,  helpless  Southern  woman,  who  has  no  arms 
but  those  God  gave  her." 

It  was  an  uncomplimentary  view  to  take  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  Purdy  turned  sulkily  away. 

'•  Tell  me,"  said  Ellen,  determined  to  i^ursue  the  sub- 
ject, "  how  many  men  are  in  the  cavalry  guard.  I 
v/ant  to  tell  it  when  I  go  to  Dixie.  They  don't  know 
of  what  importance  we  ladies  are  down  here,  nor  what 
pains  General  Milroy  takes  to  escort  them  with  honor." 

"  There's  twenty-five  men,"  said  one  of  the  other 
men,  a  good-natured,  honest-looking  fellovv^,  who  drove 
the  vehicle  and  seemed  infinitely  to  enjoy  Purdy's 
sullen  mood. 

"  Twenty-five  outside  and  three  in,''  said  Ellen, 
laughing  afresh  ;  "an  unnecessary  expenditure  of  force, 
it  seems  to  me.  "Well,  I  shall  not  attempt  an  escape 
under  the  circumstances." 

"  How  far  do  you  propose  taking  me  ?  "  she  asked 
after  some  time. 

"Not  within  reach  of  the  Kebels,"  said  Purdy. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  answered  Ellen.  *'  But  I  have  some 
friends  near  JSTewtown,  and  if  you  will  leave  me  with 
them  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you." 


254  WOMEN,  OR  CEROmCLES 

"  Our  orders  are,"  said  Purdy,  "  to  leave  you  at  the 
side  of  the  road  in  the  open  country." 

"At  the  roadside  in  the  open  country  without  pro- 
tection !  "  repeated  Ellen  emphatically. 

"Them's  they,"  said  Purdy.  "En'  that's  what  you 
git  fur  bein'  sich  a  Rebel." 

"  Do  5'ou  think  that  this  is  a  time  for  me  to  regret 
that  I  am  not  linked  in  any  way  with  you,  sir,"  said 
Ellen  defiantly. 

The  young  man  who  drove  the  ambulance  laughed 
•unreservedl}',  and  vras  joined  feebly  by  the  second,  who 
occupied  the  back  seat,  while  Purdy  relapsed  into  a 
sulky  silence  until  he  came  upon  an  old  negro  driving 
a  miserable  cart  towards  him,  when  he  stopped  and 
asked : 

"Have  their  ben  any  Eebels  down  this  way  lately?  " 

''  No,  marster,  ain't  seen  none,  'cepin'  it  mought  be 
Mars  John  ;  he  wer'  down  home  las'  week." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  where  is  he  ?  "  asked  Purdy  excitedly. 

"  Ho  blonks  to  Mars.  Turner  Ashb^^'s  calvary,  and  I 
heard  him  tell  Miss  Sally  when  he  lef  her  dit  he 
Avouldn't  be  long  afore  he  cum  back.  I  was  jis'  gwine 
up  to  tell  de  Gineral  at  Winchester." 

"Well,  go  on  quick  and  tell  him  just  whar  you  live," 
said  Purdy  ;  "  this  are  important  and  must  be  seen 
to." 

"  That  I  suppose  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  '  intelli- 
gent contraband '  ?  "  said  Ellen,  sarcastically,  as  they 
rode  on. 

"  Yes,  he's  a  good  speciment  of  that  highly  useful 
class  of  citizens,"  said  Purdy.  "  They  gives  us  a  mighty 
heap  of  valable  iofurmation,  they  does.  I  knows  jist 
how  to  deal  with  'em,  I  dus,  bein'  a  Southern  man  my- 
self.'' 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  255 

"  You  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen  indignantly. 

*'  Yes,  ma'am,  me.  I  was  born  and  fotch  np  in  old 
Yiro'inny  ;  en'  ef  tliar  wasn't  so  meny  darned  Eebels  in 
the  State  I  wouldn't  be  so  'shamed  of  it." 

«  You  ashamed  of  Yirginia!  "  said  Ellen,  ''when  she 
is  blushing  painfully  over  such  degenerate  sons." 

"  She's  done  disgraced  herself,  en'  that's  a  fact ;  but 
we'll  lick  her  into  shape  before  we's  done,"  said  the 
man,  sullenly. 

Ellen's  eyes  flashed  indignantly,  but  before  she  could 
answer  the  ambulance  stopped,  and  the  work  of  un- 
loading commenced.  In  a  few  moments  the  young 
girl  found  herself  standing  alone  beside  her  trunks, 
with  her  whilom  escort  disappearing  in  the  distance. 


256  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 


CHAPTEE  XXIY. 

"Behold,  how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kindleth." — James  iii.  5. 

A  Confederate  candle  !  The  exclamation  conveys 
nothing  to  many  of  my  readers,  but  I  see  a  smile,  half 
tender,  half  sad,  break  upon  the  lips  of  some  of  my 
Southern  sisters,  as  the  recollection  of  the  cunning  de- 
vice to  supply  the  lack  of  the  brighter  luminaries  of 
the  past  comes  back  to  their  memory.  Ah,  after  all 
there  was  a  pleasure  in  those  old  straits  !  —  ingenious 
contrivances  to  cheat  adversity.  A  scene  occurs  to 
me  now :  a  pretty  green  lawn  dotted  over  with  the 
sweetest  flowers  which  Nature  furnishes,  a  bevy  of 
fair  laughing  girls  all  intent  upon  the  manufacture  of 
a  Confederate  candle  six  hundred  feet  long.  I  can 
see  the  surprise  of  the  unitiated  at  the  announcement, 
which  savors  of  the  'Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments," 
and  makes  "  Baron  Munchausen  "  wink.  But  it  was 
even  so  :  all  intent  upon  the  manufacture  of  a  Confede- 
rate candle  six  hundred  feet  long.  I  see  the  small 
furnace  with  its  glowing  coals  placed  upon  the  gravel 
walk,  and  going  nearer  I  peep  into  the  sauce-pan  seated 
upon  it,  and  laugh  to  mark  the  self-important  bubbling 
and  sputtering  which  the  rosin  and  wax  are  making,  due 
doubtless  to  the  burning  consciousness  which  possesses 
them  that  their  mission  is  henceforth  to  illuminate  the 
world,  or  at  least  a  part  of  it.  I  now  see  the  monster  ball 
of  candle-wick  unrolled,  and  hear  the  musical  laughter  of 
the  young  girls  as  each  takes  her  place  along  the  lawn, 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  257 

ready  to  do  her  part  in  the  business.  The  wick  is  im- 
mersed in  the  liquid  and  quickly  passed  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  fair  assistants  ;  and  even  in  this  slight 
matter  does  the  individual  character  of  these  "women" 
peep  out.  Here  grave  Katherine,  whose  stand  is  next 
the  sauce-pan,  receives  the  hot  string  in  her  fingers 
with  RO  perceptible  wince,  even  though  their  reddened 
tips  show  that  at  least  the  "  smell  of  fire  has  passed  on 
them;"  while  Lizzie,  twenty  yards  off,  screams  and 
drops  it,  and  wonders  how  the  others  have  stood  it, 
stops  the  business  to  caress  her  wounded  hands,  and  at 
last  rules  herself  out  of  the  line  because  "it  hurts." 
One  woman  will  go  to  the  stake  in  the  cause  of  duty 
and  right,  while  another  shrinks  and  turns  aside  from 
even  a  fancied  inconvenience,  and  these  two  types  of 
the  sex  pervade  the  world.  There  is  a  wonderful  uni- 
formity in  Nature  wherever  we  find  her. 

Three  times  is  the  process  repeated  of  dipping  the 
wick,  until  at  last  the  irregular  string  is  transformed 
into  a  long  yellow  rope,  smooth  and  round,  and  the  young 
laborers  lay  down  their  finished  work  upon  the  green 
with  a  pleased  consciousness  that  of  all  the  Confede- 
rate candles  that  have  ever  been  made  this  is  the 
queen.  ISText  comes  the  process  of  wrapping  up.  A 
simple  wooden  stand  is  brought,  covered  with  blue 
paper,  and  the  long  rope  is  wrapped  fantastically  about 
It.  First  around  and  around,  then  up  and  down,  until 
it  looks  like  a  great  yellow  hogshead  built  in  the 
Gothic  style,  while  the  long  end  of  the  rope  rears 
itself  upward,  ready  to  shed  its  taper  light  and  con- 
sume itself  upon  the  altar  of  duty. 

In  the  library  at  Eose  Hill  Mrs.  Holcombe  and  Mar- 
garet arc  busily  sewing,  each  by  the  light  of  a  Confede- 


258  WOMEy,   OR  CURONICLES 

rate  candle,  while  JMaiy  Avith  a  third  is  seated  at  the 
piano,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  music-book,  and  her 
raemory  at  the  same  time,  as  she  carelessly  runs  her 
fingers  over  the  keys,  bringing  out  some  tune  of  old 
familiarity  which  evokes  from  the  past  scenes  of  light 
and  love  sadly  in  contrast  with  the  present. 

And  yet  the  simple  home-scene  is  so  peaceful  in  its 
features  as  to  shut  out  the  sound  of  the  dogs  of  war, 
as  they  snap  and  snarl  and  growl  and  bark  upon  the 
very  threshold  — 

"  Come,  stack  arms,  men,  pile  up  the  rails, 
And  stir  the  camp-fires  bright." 

''Ah,  ]\Iargie,  don't  you  remember,  as  if  it  were  yes- 
terday, how  we  all  sang  that  together  last  summer- 
Papa,  Brother,  Johnny,  Mr.  Hautman  and  Mr.  Williams? 
I  wonder  if  those  times  will  ever  come  again?  I  can 
hear  Hr.  Hautman  now:  'Come,  stock  aumps,  men, 
pile  up  de  rail !  *  Heigh  ho  !  it  would  do  me  good  to 
hear  him  again  sing,  with  so  much  spirit,  'Dat's 
Stonewall  Jockson's  way ! '  " 

"Look  forward,  don't  look  backward,  daughter,"  said 
Mrs.  Holcombe. 

"Can't  doit.  Mamma:  nothing  to  look  forward  to 
except  trouble,  trouble.  Oh  well !  I  shan't  grumble  any 
more,"  and  as  if  to  give  a  seal  to  her  determination  her 
clear  voice  broke  out  with  : 

"Hurrah  !  hurrah  !   for  Southern  rights,  hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  for  the  Bonnie  Blue  Flag  which  bears  a  single  star  !  " 

Margie's  rich  alto  joined  in,  and  the  old  room  rang 
with  the  glad  notes  of  the  song,  which  from  the  stand- 
point of  our  dead  hopes  is  so  touchingly  sad. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  259 

A  hurried  step  in  the  passage,  and  Mammy's  fright- 
ened face  at  the  door  interrupted  them. 

"Good  Marster,  my  childen  !  you  settin'  down  here 
singin'  en'  de  solgers  all  round  de  house !  De  Lord  huv 
mussy  on  us !  Dey  say  dey  is  got  orders  to  bun  de 
house  down." 

Great  terror  in  its  first  stage  is  voiceless,  so  the 
silence  which  for  a  moment  fell  upon  these  three 
women  brought  standing  to  their  feet  in  that  doomed 
house  by  their  surprise,  was  as  perfect  as  the  grave. 
Then  turning  their  eyes  upon  each  other,  and  seeing  as 
in  a  glass  the  horror  of  their  own  faces  depicted  there, 
a  wail  of  desj^air  filled  the  room.  Falling  on  her  knees 
in  the  midst,  with  streaming  e}' es  and  hands  uplifted 
to  heaven,  Mrs.  Holcombe  cried  : 

" Mercy,  oh  God !  mercy  for  thine  afflicted  children! 
We  have  trusted  in  Thee,  we  have  none  but  Thee: 
save  us,  oh  save  us !  " 

But  already  heavy  steps  sound  along  the  hall,  and 
soldiers  stand  awe-struck  upon  the  threshold,  looking 
in  upon  the  scene. 

"  You  will  not,  you  cannot  do  this  dreadful  thing ! '' 
shrieked  Mary,  casting  herself  at  their  very  fiee-t. 
'' Think  of  your  own  homes,  of  your  wives  and  chil- 
dren." 

More  than  one  man  who  had  been  foremost  of  the 
party,  fell  back  and  slunk  out  at  the  open  door  before 
the  vision  of  this  spirit-torn  child  of  earth  pleading  for 
her  home;  others  pressed  forward  and  saw  her  grovel- 
ling upon  the  floor,  tearing  her  ruddy,  sparkling,  glad 
hair —  saw  the  kneeling  figure  pleading  with  God,  and 
saw  a  tall  woman  standing  in  the  midst,  like  an  aveng- 
ing spirit,  with  pale  cheeks  and  flaming  eyes,  and  the 


260  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

three  Confederate  candles  doing  their  feeble  best  to 
throw  a  light  upon  it  worthy  of  the  scene.  The  men 
stood  awe-struck  and  irresolute.  At  last  one  in  the 
uniform  of  a  Lieutenant,  pressing  forward  and  taking 
oif  his  cap,  real  concern  in  his  face,  handed  to  3Iargaret 
a  note  as  he  said  : 

'*  Ladies,  I  would  willingly  fiice  a  battery  of  cannon 
rather  than  obe}^  that  order,  but  I  am  a  subordinate 
officer  and  have  no  option  in  the  matter." 

Margaret  opened  the  note  mechanically  and  read  : 

''Headquarters  of  the  . 

"  Captain  J.  H.  Broicn  : 

'•  Your  information  with  regard  to  the  house  named 
Eose  Hill  has  been  received.  And  whereas  it  appears 
from  your  statement  that  it  is  used  as  a  harbor  for 
Eebels,  it  has  incurred  the  penalty  proclaimed  against 
such  harbors ;  therefore  I  order  you  to  take  such  force 
as  may  be  necessary  and  burn  it  to  the  ground,  with 
all  of  its  furniture  and  valuables,  not  allowing  anything 
to  be  taken  therefrom  except  such  clothing  as  may  be 
upon  the  persons  of  the  inmates. 

'*  David  Hunter,  Commanding  GeneraV 

Margaret  Murray  was  only  a  woman,  though  a  brave- 
hearted  one,  and  when  she  read  this  doom  of  her  father's 
home,  and  knew  that  the  blow  came  through  her,  for 
one  instant  utter  dismay  took  possession  of  her. 
The  fault  of  her  early  youth  seemed  to  j^ursue  her 
grimly,  relentlessly,  and  for  one  moment  forgetting 
husband,  child,  and  her  bright  hopes  of  happiness,  she 
wished  that  she  could  lay  her  young  head  beneath  the 
quiet  sod.  For  one  moment  only  though ;  the  next 
she  was  herself  almost,  and  though  the  effort  to  sj^eak 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  261 

was  twice  made  before  trembling  lip  and  voice  sec- 
onded the  effort,  it  came  at  last : 

"  Will  nothing  save  us  from  this  calamity  ?  " 

"  I  am  forced  to  say  ^  nothing,'  my  poor  ladies.  The 
order  has  been  issued  that  in  one  hour's  time  the  build- 
ing shall  be  fired.  Let  mo  urge  you  to  make  as  much 
haste  as  possible." 

One  hour's  time  to  take  leave  of  the  associations  of  a 
life-time  !  One  hour's  time  to  blot  out  the  dear  traces 
of  dead  and  gone  !  One  hour's  time  to  consign  to  a  fiery 
grave  all  the  sweet  usages  of  home  !  One  hour's  time, 
and  with  no  roof  to  shelter  and  no  home  to  protect : 
the  helpless  women  and  children  must  go  out  into  the 
pitiless  storm  of  life,  exiles  and  outcasts  !  It  was  short 
enough  ;  but  better  so  —  a  longer  time  would  but  have 
been  a  longer  anguish.  jS"ow  the  absolute  necessity 
for  acting  and  thinking  promptly,  brought  reaction 
from  the  torpor  of  distress  into  which  the  announce- 
ment had  plunged  them.  Already  the  mothers  think 
of  their  children,  and  flying  to  their  rooms,  snatch 
them  from  their  quiet  slumbers  and  prepare  them  for 
the  flitting. 

A  shade  of  additional  anxiety  crossed  Margaret's 
face  as  she  prepared  her  little  boy  for  the  move,  taking 
care  even  in  her  agitation  not  to  waken  him.  He  had 
been  sick  for  a  day  or  two  with  a  cold,  and  no  wonder 
even  now  in  this  terrible  trouble  she  found  time  for 
solicitude  lest  the  cool  air  of  night  should  add  to  it. 
She  wrapped  him  up  as  well  as  she  could,  however,  and 
handed  him  with  many  injunctions  to  his  nurse,  a 
young  girl  of  about  twelve  years  of  age,  his  old  nurse 
having  long  since  gone  to  the  land  of  freedom. 

The  work  of  devastation  had  already  commenced 


262  WOMEIf,  OR  CHR0NICLE8 

"svhen  she  left  her  room.  Dark  figures,  looking  weird 
and  ghastly  by  the  light  of  flickering  torches,  flitted 
about  the  difl'erent  rooms.  In  the  hands  of  some  she 
saw  some  little  household  valuables,  but  she  heeded 
them  not,  for  there  was  Mary  in  the  distance  making 
her  way  alone  through  the  crowd  of  soldiers  with  a 
bundle  in  her  arms.  With  a  protective  instinct  for 
this  fair  girl  her  sister  started  forward  to  join  her. 
Before  she  reached  her,  however,  a  man  roughly  caught 
the  bundle  from  her. 

''Aginst  orders,  young  ooman,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  let  me  have  it !  let  me  have  it ! "  cried  ^lary, 
so  piteously  that  the  man  hesitated  and  unrolled  it  be- 
fore he  spoke. 

"  Doll-babies  !  "  he  said,  with  an  accent  of  amused 
contempt.  ''  Look  yere,  Bill,  this  gal  is  leaving  ever 
thing  else  behint  and  takin'  out  her  doll-babies,''  and 
he  threw  them  to  her  with  a  laugh  half  of  pity  and 
half  of  amusement. 

For  the  first  time  the  tears  filled  Margaret  Murray's 
eyes  as  she  heard  coming  out  of  the  shadowy  past  a 
failing  voice,  saying : 

"  Mamie,  take  care  of  my  family ;  don't  let  'em  all 
get  broke  up." 

As  she  left  the  house  she  turned  for  a  last  look,  and 
found  the  men  with  the  torches  gathering  the  furniture 
together  in  the  middle  of  the  drawing-room  floor; 
the  lace-curtains  were  torn  down  from  the  windows 
and  thrown  upon  the  pile,  music-books  and  rich  orna- 
ments added  to  it. 

'•  Here,  put  on  this  yere  matting  ;  'twill  burn  quick- 
est," said  one  man,  bringing  in  a  pile  of  summer  mat- 
ting which  lay  ready  to  be  put  down  in  a  corner. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  263 

"Ko  fear  of  it's  not  burning  quick  enough,"  said 
another,  pouring  something  from  a  bottle  over  the 
pile;  "it'll  go  like  a  tinder-box  -when  it  once  gets 
started.  I  kinder  can't  help  feelin'  sorry  for  the 
women,  though  they  is  Eebels." 

"  Hush,  there's  one  of  them  now,"  said  his  companion, 
directing  his  attention  to  Margaret,  who  still  stood  in 
the  door. 

"  We  is  ready,  ma'am,"  said  the  man,  lifting  his  cap  to 
her.  "Don't  like  to  hurry  you,  but  our  orders  is 
positive." 

"  One  moment,"  she  pleaded,  as  she  dashed  back  into 
the  house  and  looked  up  into  the  face  of  her  dead 
mother's  picture,  which  hung  against  the  wall,  smiling 
down  at  her.     "  Can  I  not  take  this  ?  '* 

"No,  ma'am;  pictures  was  specially  named.  Why, 
law,  ma'am  !  it  ain't  livin'  nohow.  You  is  got  ever  thing 
livin',  and  that's  a  great  'iowance." 

She  turned  away,  and  looked  back  no  more  until  she 
joined  the  rest  of  the  family  on  the  lawn  below  the 
house. 

Jean  sat  on  the  ground  with  her  face  hidden  in  Eddy's 
dress  as  he  lay  upon  her  lap,  and  one  hand  passing 
caressingly  over  Mary's  head  as  she  lay  beside  her.  Ko 
Vv'ord  was  spoken  as  Margaret  joined  them,  and  silently 
she  stood  beside  them,  her  gaze  riveted  upon  the  devoted 
building  smiling  so  calmly  in  the  moonlight.  In  another 
minute  a  light  seemed  to  leap  up  within  the  house,  and 
the  figures  of  men  hurrying  before  a  cloud  of  black 
smoke  issued  from  the  door;  and  she  stood  calmly  by, 
looking  her  last  ujDon  the  home  of  her  childhood.  As  the 
crackling  of  the  flames  and  the  burning  smell  reached 
them,  Mrs.  Holcombe  half  raised  her  head,  then  buried 
it  with  a  groan,  and  Mary  shrieked  aloud : 


2G4  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

''Ah,  bow  can  they  do  it?     God  will  punish  them." 

But  3Iargaret  said  not  a  word  ;  she  seemed  to  herself 
turned  to  stone,  so  inadequately  did  her  suffering 
compare  with  the  call  upon  her  feeling.  It  is  ever 
thus  ill  times  of  a  terrible  tempest  of  thought,  feeling 
seems  dead,  like  the  body,  which  is  only  conscious  of 
suffering  up  to  a  certain  point. 

Ah,  the  remorseless  fury  of  that  terrible  fire!  rip- 
ping up  and  tearing  down  the  most  sacred  usages  and 
sweetest  endearments  of  that  old  Virginia  home, 
lolling  its  terrible  forked  tongues  in  horrid  derision 
from  the  w^indows  and  doors,  crackling  and  roaring 
with  fearful  laughter  over  the  ruin  and  misery  it  was 
making;  its  flames  with  cruel  delight  now  winding 
themselves  like  illuminated  serpents  up  the  large  pil- 
lars of  the  porch,  tearing  down  and  trampling  to  ashes 
the  green  vines  which  had  but  newly  clothed  them- 
selves in  the  soft  verdure  of  spring;  now  leaping  up- 
ward towards  the  heavens,  their  lurid  light  making 
the  sky  itself  seem  dark  by  the  contrast,  then  casting 
its  glare  upon  the  surrounding  scene,  exaggerating 
everything  with  its  wild  brilliancy.  Hard,  rugged 
faces  looked  demoniacal  in  its  light,  while  to  the  weep- 
ing agon}'  of  the  homeless  women  it  added  a  thrilling 
beauty. 

Margaret  Murray,  as  she  stood,  looked  like  an  old 
painting  of  Eubens,  whose  flesh-tints  are  brighter  than 
nature.  She  might  have  stood  as  a  model  for  an 
accusing  angel  or  a  IN'emesis. 

Not  a  word  had  she  spoken  since  the  first  volume  of 
smoke,  telling  its  tale,  had  sent  a  shudder  and  a  shiver 
through  her  frame;  but  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  burn- 
ing building,  as  if  she  feared  to  lose  one  moment  in 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR,  265 

which  she  might  look  her  last  upon  the  dear  old  j)lace. 
Every  now  and  then  her  hungry  gaze  would  be  re- 
warded as  the  fire  made  wide  gaps  in  the  walls;  and 
the  breeze  which  blew  freshly,  waving  aside  the  sheets 
of  flame,  her  eye  would  catch  sight  of  some  object 
familiar  from  childhood,  which  seemed  to  her  excited 
imagination  to  be  waving  a  farewell  to  her.  There 
was  the  dear  old  library,  her  favorite  resort,  almost 
untouched  still  amid  the  general  ruin  ;  so  familiar  was 
she  with  every  spot  about  it  that  she  felt  as  if,  taking 
knowledge  for  sight,  she  could  read  the  names  of  the 
books  upon  the  shelves.  There  was  the  piano,  and,  as 
if  in  mockery,  the  last  sound  she  had  heard  in  con- 
nection with  it  again  rung  upon  her  ears  : 

"  Hurrah,  hurrah  !  for  Southern  rights,  hurrah  !  " 

Where  were  they  now  ?  while  she,  one  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  Virginia,  stood  here  before  the  ruin  of  her  home 
without  a  shelter  for  her  head ! 

Ah,  how  like  lightning  did  the  familiar  scenes  of  her 
life  connect  themselves  with  her  last  sight  of  that  dear 
old  room ;  recalling  her  wayward  childhood  and  youth, 
and  so  much  of  patience  and  love  which  had  guarded 
and  guided  her  through  all.  Now  her  father  stood 
beside  her,  then  her  lover,  husband,  friend ;  and  like  a 
demon,  the  man  who  was  the  evil  genius  of  her  life 
flitted  in  and  out  of  the  scenes.  Mingled  with  all  her 
horrible  sense  of  the  present  was  bright  laughter,  gay 
words,  all  going  down !  down !  down !  blackening, 
scorching,  shriveling  in  the  hands  of  this  ruthless  mon- 
ster; and  there  —  and  there — and  there — were  spots 
sacred  to  the  dead  and  gone,  where  earth-born  spirits 
had  torn  themselves  away  from  earth-born  love  and 
winged  their  flight  heavenward! 
13 


266  WOM£!X,   OH  CUROXICLES 

Butj  ah !  now  a  gap  is  made  ;  the  curtain  of  light  is 
again  drawn  aside,  and  peering  anxiously  in,  she  sees 
her  mother's  picture,  brilliant,  sparkling,  and  smiling 
upon  her.  The  dreadful  incongruity  of  its  expression, 
with  its  surroundings,  sent  a  shudder  through  her, 
though  she  never  took  her  hungry  eyes  from  it  for  an 
instant. 

JSTow  she  leans  forward  anxiously,  eagerly.  Is  it  the 
light  shining  upon  the  gilt  frame  ?  No,  it  is  the  flame 
writhing  itself  around  it,  and  there  from  the  midst  of 
the  burning  fiery  furnace  the  face  smiles  upon  her  still; 
a  moment  more,  there  is  a  shrinking  and  a  shivering  of 
the  figure,  a  dark  shadow  passes  over  it  —  it  shrivels  — 
curls  up  —  and  all  is  over.  The  last  view  she  has  is  the 
smiling  face,  smiling  out  at  her.  For  the  first  time  during 
the  fearful  scene  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
groaned  aloud  ;  nor  did  she  arouse  until  a  loud  booming 
sound  announced  the  falling  in  of  the  roof  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  home  it  had  so  long  sheltered,  and  she 
raised  her  head  to  see  black  clouds  of  funereal  smoko 
spreading  like  a  pall  over  all,  while  thick  showers  of 
sparks  ascended  to  the  sky  in  angry  volumes,  and  the 
wind  bore  off  on  its  wings  flakes  of  fire. 

She  was  startled  from  her  miserable  reverie  by  feeling 
something  tugging  at  her  dress,  and  she  heard  a  little 
voice  crying,  as  he  pointed  to  the  fire,  "  Mamma,  so 
l)retty!" 

She  looked  down  and  found  her  little  boy  standing 
beside  her.  He  had  been  forgotten  in  the  general  com- 
motion, his  nurse  having  laid  him,  all  wrapped  up  as  he 
was,  under  a  tree,  while  she,  in  the  face  of  the  general 
ruin,  took  her  final  leave  of  the  family.  The  child 
waking  and  finding  himself  alone,  had  managed  to  ex- 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAB.  267 

tricate  himself  from  his  encumbrances,  and  made  his 
way  to  his  mother's  side  unnoticed.  He  was  dressed 
only  in  his  little  white  gown  and  his  feet  bare.  In- 
stantly the  mother  usurped  her  place  in  the  heart  of 
the  distressed  woman,  and  catching  him  up  in  her  arms 
with  an  accent  of  alarm,  she  hugged  his  little  shivering 
form  to  her  breast,  and  then  fled  with  him  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Mammy's  house. 


268  WOME^\  OR  cnnoxiCLEs 


CHAPTEE    XXY. 

"  As  a  star  at  the  quiet  hour  of  even 
Peeps  trembling  from  the  pure  azure  of  "heaven, 
E'er  the  darkening  shades  of  night  have  come, 
Then  vanishes  back  to  its  native  home  : 
So  the  soul  in  this  rosy  shell  impearled 
Had  gazed  for  a  moment  upon  the  dark  world, 
But  shrank  from  its  cankering  care  and  pain, 
And  calmly  returned  to  heaven  again. — St.  G.  Tcceer,  Jr. 

vSo  absorbing  was  the  distress  of  Mrs.  Holcombe  and 
Mary  that  Margaret's  absence  Avas  not  noticed.  The 
fire  in  the  meantime  had  destroyed  everything  it 
could  destroy,  and  now  flickered  up  from  the  ruin  with 
a  smouldering  sullen  determination  to  live  on  without 
food,  since  everything  consumable  was  gone;  then  a 
gentle  hand  was  laid  on  Mrs.  Holcombe's  shoulder,  and 
Mammy's  voice  sounded  in  her  ear: 

"  My  dear  Misstis,  come  'long  of  me  ;  dey  ain't  no 
better  place  den  my  house  for  you  honored  head  dis 
night.  Come,  my  poor  childern.  I'se  afeard  de  trouble 
ain't  over  yet.  Miss  Marget's  chile  is  got  de  croup, 
en'  she  want  you  bad.'' 

This  last  information  aroused  them  at  once,  and  they 
hurried  off  to  the  quarters. 

They  found  her  .seated  before  the  fire  with  a  little 
writhing,  struggling  figure  upon  her  knees,  his  cheeks 
burning  and  his  eyes  flashing  with  fever,  while  the 
breath  came  in  hoarse  gasps  between  his  lips. 

<'  Oh,  Margie !  "  cried  Mrs.  Holcombe,  throwing  her- 
self on  her  knees  beside  her. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  269 

"  1^0  need  to  be  frightened,  Mamma,"  was  tlie  answer, 
not  without  a  note  of  angry  expostulation  in  her  tone; 
"he  is  better  now  than  a  few  moments  ago.  There, 
darling,  spit  out  the  phlegm.  Oh,  my  baby,  my  baby ! 
God  surely  could  not  be  so  cruel !  No,  no  !  Papa  is 
praying  for  us  now." 

But  disguise  it,  blind  herself  to  it  as  she  would, 
others  saw  the  fearful  struggle  the  baby  made  for  life 
with  death.  Everything  was  done,  but  still  his  breath- 
ing became  more  labored,  the  blood  mounting  higher 
and  higher  in  his  cheeks  as  the  struggle  increased.  At 
last  a  black  rim  settled  around  his  mouth  and  eyes. 
Mammy  saw  it,  and  silently  pointed  it  out  to  Mrs.  Hol- 
combe. 

*'  Let  me  take  him,  Miss  Marget,"  pleaded  the  old 
woman,  ''  en'  you  go  en'  lie  down." 

"  No  !  no  !  no  !  No  one  shall  touch  him  but  myself, 
my  baby,  my  baby  !     Mammy,  try  something  else." 

It  was  useless,  still  it  was  done  ;  but  the  labored 
breathing  increased. 

"Ah, Mammy,'^  pleaded  the  young  mother,  "see  how 
he  looks  to  me  for  help,  reaching  out  his  dear  arms. 
Can't  something  be  done  ?" 

"  Nothin',  my  chile,  but  to  put  him  in  de  arm  ob 
Jesus,"  said  the  old  woman  ;  and  even  as  she  spoke  the 
breath  seemed  suddenly  to  lighten,  the  eyes  closed, 
and  kind  angels  bore  away  the  baby's  spirit  to  the 
arms  of  the  Saviour ! 

The  morning  after  the  burning  of  Eose  Hill  the  sun 
rose  heartlessly  upon  the  scene  of  devastation  and 
ruin  with  the  greatest  brilliancy  of  which  it  was  cap- 
able, and  Captain  Brown  rose  with  it,  elate  at  his  last 
stroke  of    vengeance.      Looking    from    his    quarters 


270  WOMEN,  OR  CHR0mCLE9 

towards  the  place,  the  cloud  of  smoke  whicli  still 
blackened  the  sky  came  to  him  as  au  assurance  that 
his  work  was  complete,  and  he  gloated  over  the  cer- 
tainty, and  from  this  gloating  grew  a  desire  to  witness 
the  full  effect  of  his  triumph.  It  was  but  half  a  victory 
unless  he  could  see  the  haughty  woman  humbled.  At 
first  he  would  rather  have  avoided  an  interview,  but 
the  desire  to  witness  her  humiliation  overcame  any 
fear  he  might  have  had,  and  ended  in  a  determination 
to  seek  her  out  and  witness  for  himself  the  fall  of  the 
proud  spirit  which  had  so  long  defied  him. 

It  was  still  early  morning  when  he  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  to  the  ruins.  He  was  human,  and  felt 
it  in  some  pang  of  regret  as  he  stood  beside  what  was 
yesterday  so  inviting  a  picture  of  a  country  home,  now 
ruthlessly  destroyed  by  his  act.  A  little  thought  of 
retributive  justice  entered  his  soul,  but  he  put  it  away. 
A  man  who  is  just  from  an  act  of  vigorous  service  to 
the  Devil  does  not  much  relish  the  thought  of  a  God. 
He  convinces  himself  that  there  is  no  such  uncomfort- 
able institution,  and  binds  himself  with  new  chains  to 
7ii5  master. 

Finding  from  inquiry  that  the  ladies  had  taken 
refuge  at  the  negro-quarters,  he  turned  his  horse's 
head  in  that  direction,  with  a  sneering  smile  of  triumph 
over  their  fall.  Arriving  at  the  door  of  Mammy's 
house  he  dismounted,  and  tying  his  horse,  opened  the 
door  without  ceremony.  Here  he  found  what  he 
sought,  and  how  ?  Mrs.  Hoicombe  was  seated  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  with  her  little  boy  on  her  lap,  and 
Mary  stood  at  the  back  of  her  chair,  her  arms  resting 
lightly  around  her.  Their  attitudes  were  expressive 
of  the  deepest  dejection,  and  their  eyes  were  heavy 


OF  THE  LATE    WAB.  271 

with  weeping  and  loss  of  rest.  Upon  the  "bed  which 
stood  in  one  corner  of  the  room  lay  the  figure  of  a 
woman,  and  by  its  side  sat  old  Mammy,  with  many  a 
new  wrinkle  in  her  aged  face  since  the  setting  of  that 
sun  which  now  poured  its  beams  through  the  little 
uncurtained  window  and  flickered  upon  the  bare  floor. 

There  was  an  ominous  stillness  in  the  room  which 
somehow  awed  the  intruder  without  his  knowing  why, 
perhaps  because  he  expected  more  demonstrative  grief. 
Mrs.  Holcombe  and  Mary  caught  sight  of  him  first,  and 
shuddering,  turned  away.  Little  Eddy,  feeling  the 
movement,  looked  up,  and  shrieked  in  a  paroxysm  of 
nervous  frenzy  for  the  *•  bad  Yankee  "  to  be  taken 
away.  Mammy  rose  and  came  towards  him  with  ashy 
face,  and  the  figure  upon  the  bed  lifted  itself  up  and 
disclosed  to  his  view  Margaret  Murray,  but  Margaret 
Murray  so  changed,  so  shorn  of  her  beauty,  so  terrible 
in  the  change  that,  bad  man  as  he  was,  his  heart 
quailed  before  her.  It  was  a  triumph,  but  a  triumph 
which  punished  the  victor  by  the  mere  sight  of  it. 

Seeing  him  standing  there,  she  rose  to  her  feet,  look- 
ing in  the  majesty  of  her  grief  taller  than  he  had  ever 
seen  her  before,  and  with  a  smile  more  bitter  than  a 
curse  said  : 

"  So  you  come,  Sir,  to  see  the  result  of  your  work  ?  " 

He  had  come  for  that,  and  he  knew  it ;  but  could  he 
have  been  spared  the  sight  now,  he  would  have  blessed 
the  hand  which  efi^ected  the  salvation. 

"I  —  I  came  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any  service  to 
you,  ladies,"  said  he,  gathering  boldness  as  he  went  on. 

'•  Service  !  "  she  said,  and  the  hollow  despair  of  her 
voice  threw  a  volume  of  meaning  into  the  one  word. 
^'  Did  you  call  by  at  the  blackened  ruin  of  what  but 


272  WO.VEy,   OR   CHRONICLES 

for  jour  service  would  have  been  Eosc  Hill  this  morn- 
ing'? and  have  you  come  on  here  to  see  3- our  completed 
work  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Murray,"  he  said,  trying  hard  to  catch  his  fly- 
ing manhood,  "a  subordinate  officer  but  obeys  his 
superiors.  I  am  not  accountable  in  any  way  for  the 
sad  circumstances  which  deprived  you  of  your  home." 

She  may  not  have  heard  him  ;  she  certainly  took 
no  heed  of  his  words,  but  moving  aside  she  repeated : 

"  You  come  here  to  see  your  completed  work  ;  it 
waits  your  approval,"  and  as  she  spoke  she  drew 
aside  a  white  cover  and  disclosed  to  his  view  the 
waxen  form  of  the  dead  baby. 

Death  had  stricken  so  suddenly  home  that  he  had 
not  robbed  his  victim  of  one  grace  ;  he  had  but 
stopped  the  breathing,  and  that  was  all.  He  lay  with 
parted  lips,  as  if  he  but  waited  his  Maker's  breath  to 
revivify  his  form.  The  little  dimpled  hands  were 
crossed  the  one  on  the  other,  and  old  Mammy  had 
managed  to  find  a  bunch  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  which 
were  placed  between  them.  He  was  dressed  only  in  a 
white  night-gown,  as  nothing  more  suitable  had  been 
saved  from  the  fire. 

The  man  who  had  seen  hundreds  of  dead  men  on  a 
battle-field  without  shrinking,  who  had  not  hesitated 
in  pursuit  of  his  own  paltry  revenge  to  commit  the 
fearful  act  of  the  night  befor®,  felt  a  spasm  of  horror 
at  his  heart  when  he  saw  this  exquisite  casket  from 
which  the  soul  had  fled  thus  suddenly  through  his  in- 
strumentality. On  the  impulse  of  the  moment  he 
sprang  forward  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  exclaimed: 

"My  work  ?     Oh,  no  !  I  never  meant  this  !  " 

"Yes,  yours/'  she  answered,  without  any  violence  of 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAR.  273 

manner,  but  more  as  if  an  angelic  sorrow  filled  her 
heart  for  the  poor  sinful  man.  "Do  3'ou  indeed  regret 
it?  then  I  pity  you.  To  be  capable  of  feeling  sorrow 
for  such  deeds  as  yours  must  be  a  foretaste  of  eternal 
punishment.     Yes,  I  pity  you!  " 

The  nature  of  the  man,  however,  began  again  to  as- 
sert itself  even  here.  He  had  laid  down  too  definite  a 
programme  to  be  turned  from  his  course  for  any  length 
of  time. 

''  You  have  no  right,  madam,"  he  said,  "  to  make  me 
accountable  for  your  misfortunes  ;  '  you  have  sown  the 
wind,  you  must  reap  the  whirlwind.'  You  only  endure 
the  fortunes  of  war,  and  though  this  may  not  be  a 
proper  time  to  say  it,  it  is  but  the  punishment  meted 
out  to  you  in  good  measure  for  your  pride.  All  this 
you  might  have  escaped — " 

She  understood  him,  and  turned  half-wearily  towards 
the  bed,  then  back  to  him,  and  in  a  low,  reverent 
voice  said  : 

"  I  almost  thank  you  for  your  cruel  allusion  to  the 
past.  I  have  felt  since  last  night  that  God  was  no  God, 
or  that  He  would  not  so  have  forsaken  us ;  but  looking 
back  to  that  reckless  time  of  my  life,  looking  at  you, 
I  feel  that  I  have  a  Father  who  protected  me  from 
myself  and  from  you,  and  although  " —  and  her  voice 
trembled — "I  am  sorely  afflicted,  all  of  His  waves  and 
His  billows  have  gone  over  me,  yet  I  know  now  that 
He  sees  what  is  best,  that  in  mercy,  not  in  wrath,  He 
has  laid  His  hands  upon  me.  But,  oh,  my  baby !  my  dar- 
ling !  it  is  hard  to  give  you  up  !  "  All  her  strength  was 
gone  now,  and  she  was  down  beside  the  bed,  her  face 
buried  in  the  baby's  pillow,  shedding  the  first  tears  which 
had  bedewed  her  eyes  since  the  death  of  the  child. 
13* 


274  WOJIEN,  OR  CHROmCLES 

Captain  Brown  was  not  sorry  to  bo  hurried  out  of 
the  room,  and  the  last  sound  which  fell  upon  his  ears  as 
he  left  the  house  was  that  broken-hearted  wail. 

That  afternoon  a  sad  procession  moved  along  the 
path  leading  to  the  family  burying-ground.  In  front 
old  Uncle  Bob  bore  a  rough  pine-box ;  next  came  the 
mother  with  bowed  head,  supported,  one  on  each  side, 
by  her  mother  and  sister;  and  behind,  old  Mammy  and 
Aunt  Ailsie,  with  Eddy  between  them. 

It  was  an  humble  funeral,  but  no  prince  ever  had 
more  heartfelt  mourners.  Arriving  at  the  grave,  the 
faithful  old  negroes  placed  the  little  cofiin  in  it  and 
filled  it  up,  while  the  three  mourners  knelt  at  its  brink. 
When  it  was  done,  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Holcombo  rose 
like  a  broken  harp-string,  low,  tremulous,  and  sweet,  in 
earnest  and  humble  entreaty  for  the  blessing  of  God 
upon  them  in  their  desolation  and  distress,  and  that 
His  strengthening  grace  would  enable  the  absent 
parent  of  the  dead  baby  to  say  from  his  heart; 

"  It  is  well  with  the  child." 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAIL  '  275 


CHAPTEE    XXYI. 

«  O  Liberty  1  Liberty  !  how  many  crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name." 
"^  — Madame  Roland. 

When  Ellen  Eandolpli  looked  down  the  road  in  the 
direction  of  Winchester  at  the  rapidly  disappearing 
cavalcade  which  had  acted  as  her  escort,  and  then 
back  again  in  the  opposite  direction  at  the  desolate 
country,  it  must  be  confessed  that  her  woman's  heart 
quailed  a  little;  but  gathering  courage  on  the  instant 
from  the  very  absence  of  danger,  as  well  as  of  relief, 
she  walked  on  to  the  next  house,  which  she  knew  well 
as  the  house  of  kind  friends. 

'<•  Why,  Ellen  Eandolph !  where  on  the  earth  did  you 
come  from?"  said  a  lady,  running  from  the  house  to 
meet  her,  followed  by  a  young  girl. 

Laughing  and  crying  all  in  a  breath,  the  young  lady 
gave  an  account  of  herself  and  received  a  warm  wel- 
come, as  they  accompanied  her  into  the  house. 

"And  why  not  stay  with  us  until  our  men  come 
in  ?  "  said  Agnes  Irvine,  a  pretty  rosebud  of  a  girl,  not 
yet  over  the  threshold  of  womanhood,  but  nearing  the 
boundary. 

<' Ah,  if  I  only  could!  "  said  Ellen  ;  ''  but  I  cannot  re- 
main so  near  the  lines.  I  am  like  poor  Joe  in  '  Bleak 
House,'  I  don't  know  where  I  am  to  go,  but  I  must 
keep  '  moving  on  '  until  I  can  find  Papa,  and  consult  with 
him  about  myself.  I  feel  almost  afraid  to  meet  him 
too,  on  account  of  Mamma ;  I  know  he  will  be  so  wor- 
ried.    Ah,  Agnes,  my  dear !  "  turning  as  she  spoke  to 


276  WOJTB^',   OR  CUBOXICLES 

the  young  girl,  who  kaclt  before  her  and  held  her 
hand,  and  sj^eaking  in  half  comic,  half  serious  admoni- 
tion, ''take  warning  from  my  experience  and  never 
write  a  letter!     See  what  it  has  brou^jht  me  to." 

"It  has  brought  you  to  us,"  said  Xrs.  Irvine  kindly  ; 
*•  we  cannot  be  sorry  for  that." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Ellen,  her  cyos  filling, 
"but  I  cannot  blind  myself  to  the  truth  that  I  have 
acted  foolishly,  and  the  result  has  been  unfortunate, 
to  Mamma  at  least." 

"  Oh  well,  never  mind,  it  will  all  come  right  after  a 
while,''  said  the  lady  consolingly,  while  Agnes  patted 
her  hand  with  affectionate  sympathy.  "  I  don't  believe 
it  will  be  long  before  you  can  return  home." 

"  In  the  meantime,"  said  Ellen,  "  how  am  I  to  con- 
tinue my  journey  ?  " 

"  How  indeed  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Irvine  ;  "  our  army  is 
sixty  miles  up  the  Talley,  and  I  do  not  suppose  there 
are  a  dozen  horses  between  this  place  and  that." 

"  Mamma,''  said  Agnes,  "old  Mr.  Brown,  our  neigh- 
bor, has  a  horse  and  cart  •  T  wonder  if  Miss  Nell 
could  not  hire  them  ?  " 

"  That  old  thing !  "  said  Mrs.  Irvine,  laughing ;  "  I 
don't  believe  it  would  drag  her  ten  miles." 

"  Then  let  it  drag  me  five,"  said  Ellen,  "  and  I  will 
get  some  other  conveyance.  We  must  not  despise  '  the 
day  of  small  things.'" 

It  proved  a  fortunate  suggestion  of  Agnes  Irvine's, 
as  Mr.  Brown,  upon  being  applied  to,  not  only  furnished 
the  horse  and  cart,  but  refused  most  positively  to  take 
any  money  for  its  use. 

"Far  be  it  from  me,  young  lady,"  said  the  old  man, 
leaning  on  his  stick  and  shaking  his  gray  head  with 


OF  THE  LATE   WAB.  217 

earnest  emphasis,  "  far  be  it  from  me  to  take  a  cent  of 
money  from  a  young  lady  who  is  put  upon  by  these 
miserable  scoundrels,  who  ain't  ashamed  to  fight  a  pet- 
ticoat. I  can't  fight,  Ma'am,  I'm  too  old  for  that ;  but 
I  can  lend  you  my  horse  and  cart  to  take  you  as  far  as 
Woodstock  on  your  journey,  and  I'll  do  it  and  welcome  ; 
and  all  the  pay  I  wants  is  for  you  to  hunt  up  my  two 
boys  what  is  in  the  1st  Yirginia  Eegiment,  and  tell  them 
if  they  wants  their  father's  blessing  to  fight  the  Yan- 
kees all  the  harder  for  this  deed  they's  done." 

JSTothing  remained  but  to  take  the  old  man's  offer, 
which  Ellen  did  with  many  thanks,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing saw  her  on  her  way,  with  Mrs.  Irvine's  little  son  as 
her  driver. 

The  old  horse,  so  contemptuously  spoken  of  by  Mrs, 
Irvine,  proved  better  than  his  looks,  or  perhaps  he  was 
inspired  by  the  knowledge  of  the  service  he  was  per- 
forming. Certain  it  is  that  he  stepped  out  bravely, 
and  carried  Ellen  the  first  stage  of  her  journey,  about 
twenty  miles,  accomplishing  the  feat  in  time  to  allow 
horse,  cart,  and  boy  to  return  to  Newtown  that  night. 

Again  was  Ellen  left  alone,  standing  on  the  low  step 
leading  into  a  long  weather-boarded  house,  ostenta- 
tiously introduced  as"  The  Hotel"  by  the  sign-board 
which  swung  and  creaked  above  her  head.  ISTothing 
could  be  more  utterly  bare  and  desolate  than  the  streets 
of  Woodstock  looked  to  the  young  girl  as  she  stood  gaz- 
ing-  after  the  humble  vehicle  which  had  borne  her  so 
far  on  her  journey.  In  its  best  days  the  town  could 
not  have  been  styled  a  pretty  little  village,  and  now, 
though  there  was  a  uniformity  in  the  low  weather- 
boarded  houses,  built  close  to  the  road,  with  only  an  oc- 
casional symptom  of  green  grass  obtruding  itself  upon 


278  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

the  sight,  from  the  background  it  was  a  uniformity 
of  dimness  and  dilapidation.  A  few  ragged  urchins 
played  about  the  street,  and  one  old  man  sat  with  his 
chair  tilted  back  against  the  wall  of  what  had  once 
been  a  store,  judging  from  the  ambitious  sign-board 
which  still  bore  its  place  at  the  side  of  the  door,  an- 
nouncing "Dry-goods,  Corn,  Potatoes,  Shoes,  Butter, 
Oats,  Spices,  Canned-fruit,  Books,  Confectionary,  Sta- 
tionery, and  Fruits  for  sale  here."  But  the  empty  win- 
dows and  shelves,  as  seen  through  the  open  door,  de- 
nied all  of  these  facts  in  the  most  emphatic  manner. 
So  the  old  man  had  plenty  of  time  to  rest  his  feet  in 
the  air  and  wonder  what  the  young  lady  standing  on 
the  hotel  steps  was  crying  for,  and  where  she  came 
from,  and  why  those  lazy  rascals  in  the  house  didn't 
come  out  to  see  about  her.  He  was  just  thinking  of 
rousing  them  to  an  attention  to  their  duties,  and  of 
gratifying  his  curiosity  at  the  same  time,  when  a  portly 
old  gentleman  in  linsey-woolsey  pants  and  linen  coat 
made  his  appearance. 

"  Won't  you  walk  in,  Miss  ?  "  said  he,  rousing  her  by 
the  sound  of  his  voice  from  the  telegraph  of  thought 
she  was  sending  down  the  road  to  her  home. 

"  Can  I  go  on  from  here  up  the  Yalley  ?"  said  Ellen, 
feeling  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  entering  the  house. 

"  Well,  it  ain't  no  easy  matter  nowadays.  Ma'am,  to 
git  about,"  said  the  man,  a  little  disappointed  at  the 
thought  of  losiflg  a  customer  so  soon. 

"Is  there  no  vehicle  I  can  hire  to  carry  me  even  a 
few  miles?  I  must  go  on,  if  possible,  to-night,"  said 
Ellen,  earnestly. 

"  Lord  love  you.  Miss !  "  answered  the  man,  "  people 
have  to  walk  nowadays.  The  soldiers  don't  leave 
much  cattle  behind  'em  when  they  goes." 


F  TJIB  LATB  V/AE,  279 

"You  mean  the  Yankees  take  your  horses,"  said 
Ellen,  disposed  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the  Confederacy 
on  this  its  threshold. 

*' Both  sides  takes 'em,  Miss;  can't  say  I  sees  much 
difference  in  desire  for  horse  flesh  between  the  two." 

*'  Oh  well,"  said  Ellen,  woman-like,  shifting  her  posi- 
tion to  meet  the  difficulty,  ''  of  course  our  men  have  a 
right  to  them  —  indeed  they  are  obliged  to  have  them; 
but  the  Yankees  have  no  right." 

"Oh  yes,  yes,  yes;  I  s'pose  it's  all  right  enough," 
said  the  man,  by  hurried  acquiescence  putting  a  period 
to  any  further  discussion  ;  "  but  walk  in,  Miss,  and  we 
will  see  if  wo  can't  make  you  comfortable, '^  and  he 
ushered  her  into  a  room  wdiich  evidently  held  the  rank 
of  drawing-room  in  the  establishment,  though,  like 
everything  around,  it  bore  the  marks  of  the  war  in 
the  faded  and  dingy  atmosphere  which  pervaded  it. 
The  colors  of  the  calico  covering  to  the  home-made 
lounge,  which  stretched  itself,  uninvitingly,  opposite  the 
door,  had  probably  in  an  early  stage  of  their  existence 
delighted  the  eye  of  their  successful  artisan  by  their  bril- 
liancy and  variety,  but  they  were  now,  alas!  bleared 
and  dingy  from  long  use,  and  the  cover  itself  pleaded 
through  occasional  rents  for  the  privilege  of  rest, 
to  which  its  long  and  faithful  servitude  entitled 
it.  The  chairs  were  rather  in  keeping  with  the 
lounge,  though  there  was  a  promise  of  comfort  in 
the  split-bottom  rockers  of  which  the  hard  and  im- 
penetrable lounge  gave  no  hope.  A  rag-carpet  adorned 
the  floor,  with  the  help  here  and  there  aftbrded  by 
some  remnant  of  better  days  in  the  shape  of  a  three- 
ply  scrap  at  the  door  and  before  the  fire-place,  about 
■which  it  can  only  be  said  they  were  doing  their  best 


280  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

to  brighten  the  aspect  of  things.  But  the  prido  of  the 
room  was  evidently  a  huge  mahogany  sofa,  covered 
•v\ith  black  horse-hair,  which  -wheezed  with  asthmatic 
indignation  at  every  invasion  of  its  magnificence,  and 
bristled  all  over  with  broken  springs,  to  the  detriment 
of  any  ambitious  aspirant  to  its  throne.  A  centre-table 
sat  between  the  windows,  covered  with  the  inevitable 
leather-back  photographs,  and  some  books,  distin- 
guished severally  by  the  gilt  titles,  "  The  Pearl,''  ''  The 
Gem,''  ^'Alburn,"  &c.  The  walls  were  adorned  with 
works  of  art  in  the  shape  of  landscapes,  where  the 
excessive  blue  of  the  skies  was  only  exceeded  by  the 
excessive  blue  of  the  water,  and  where  grass  of  an 
impossible  green  luxuriated  and  afforded  pasture  for 
wooden  cattle,  of  what  peculiar  species  it  defied  the 
observer  to  decide;  wooden  men  and  women  issued 
from  houses  smaller  than  themselves,  and  trees  waved 
their  rare  foliage  in  the  breeze. 

Ellen  Eandolph's  loneliness  perfectly  overcame  her 
here,  though  she  struggled  bravely  against  the  tears 
which  would  come  in  spite  of  her.  When  her  host  left 
her  alone,  to  provide  for  her  entertainment,  she  threw 
herself  into  a  chair  and  sought  a  diversion  in  sur- 
rounding objects.  It  was  at  hand  in  the  leather-backed 
photograph  cases,  and  she  was  soon  smiling  amusedly 
over  a  rigid  pair  who  had  evidently  just  embarked  upon 
the  Bea  of  matrimony,  which  they  announced  to  all 
beholders  by  a  stiff  embrace.  The  next  was  an  old 
grandmamma,  with  an  uncompromising  cap-border; 
next,  a  Confederate  soldier  in  gray,  and  a  young  lady 
in  blue,  with  innumerable  streamers  and  a  general  airy 
appearance,  as  if  she  was  out  in  a  strong  gale.  Ellen 
was  just   making   the  acquaintance  of  this  last,  and 


OF  TJIE  LATE  WAR,  281 

womcin-like,  forming  a  link  between  the  original  of  it 
and  the  Confederate  boy,  when  the  original,  without 
streamers,  and  consequently  subdued,  made  her  appear- 
ance at  the  door  and  announced  that  the  young  lady's 
room  was  ready  for  her  reception. 

"It  is  scarcely  worth  while,"  said  Ellen,  " for  me  to 
take  a  room,  as  I  must  leave  at  once." 

<'How?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  That's  the  difficulty,  I  acknowledge,"  said  Ellen, 
"and  one  I  must  try  to  overcome.  Is  there  no  one 
who  has  a  horse  I  could  hire  to  take  me  on  to  Mount 
Jackson  ?  " 

"  Well,  Pap  he  used  to  have  a  horse  and  carriage,  but 
he  ain't  got  none  now,"  said  the  girl,  showing  a  happy 
talent  for  retrospect,  though  scarce  bringing  it  to  bear 
successfully  upon  present  emergencies;  "and  Tom,  my 
brother,  —  his  likeness  is  there,"  (alas!  for  Ellen's  ro- 
mance), "he's  got  a  horse  too,  but  he  ain't  here." 

It  was  very  satisfactory  to  the  young  lady  doubt- 
less to  reflect  that  the  family  had  been  and  were  so 
well  provided  with  means  of  locomotion,  but  Ellen 
could  not  quite  see  how  it  helj^ed  the  present  case. 

"  But  is  there  no  one  in  town,"  she  said,  "  who  would 
hire  me  a  horse  ?  Think  if  there  is  no  horse  about  here 
I  could  get." 

"  Well  now,"  said  the  former  owner  of  the  streamers, 
after  contemplating  the  ceiling  for  some  time,  "  Uncle 
Jack  Slimons  he  did  have  two  horses,  but — " 

"  Of  course  he  hasn't  them  now,"  said  Ellen,  her 
patience  quite  deserting  her  at  the  prospect  of  another 
chapter  of  past  joys. 

^'No,  the  Yankees  tuck  'em  both.  But  he's  got  a 
cow,  if  you  could  — "  and  she  looked  suggestively  at 
Ellen. 


282  WOMEN,  OR  CHROJS'ICLES 

"Eide  a  cow  !  "  said  Ellen,  laughing.  ^'Anxious  as  I 
am  to  get  on,  I  hardly  think  I  could  do  that." 

'-'Well,  she's  dry,  en' she's  very  gentle.  I  thought 
maybe  you  could." 

In  her  desperation  it  might  have  been  that  even 
the  offer  of  the  cow  would  have  been  accepted, 
but  fortunately  a  diversion  was  effected  by  a  rolling 
of  wheels,  and  a  lumbering  road-wagon,  drawn  by 
two  meagre  horses,  which  doubtless  possessed  all  the 
qualifications  necessary  to  private  life,  and  were  lame, 
halt,  and  blind  all  three.  The  wagon  was  loaded  with 
rather  a  heterogeneous  mingling  offence-rails,  timbers 
with  the  nails  still  in  them,  and  gnarled  logs  of  wood, 
all  piled  in  pell-mell.  It  was  evidently  the  gleanings 
of  fuel  from  a  deserted  camp-ground.  But  Ellen  only 
saw  a  way  out  of  her  dilemma,  and  the  vehicle  had 
hardly  come  in  sight  before  she  was  at  the  door,  hail- 
ing the  driver.  Of  course  he  was  old  (for  but  few 
young  men  were  to  be  seen  outside  of  the  army),  and 
both  deaf  and  blind,  as  was  evident  from  his  obtuse- 
ness  both  to  the  loud  cries  of  *'  Stop  I  stop  !  "  and  the 
sight  of  the  young  lady  waving  her  hand  from  the 
doorway.  Agonised  at  the  thought  of  losing  an  oppor- 
tunity, our  young  heroine  sped  forward  like  an  arrow 
from  the  bow,  and  the  driver  was  almost  thrown  from 
his  seat  by  her  sudden  appearance  at  his  horses'  heads. 

The  horses  were  stopped  and  the  explanation  given, 
though  it  had  to  be  repeated  many  times  before  it 
reached  the  ears  of  the  old  man. 

*'And  won't  you  take  me  on  as  far  as  you  go?" 
said  Ellen. 

The  man  looked  ruefully  at  the  wagon  and  then  at 
his  miserable  team. 

Ellen  understood  him  without  words. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  283 

"I  don't  caro  how  rough  ifc  is,"  she  said,  approach- 
ing him  and  speaking  loud  enough  even  for  him  to 
hear  without  difficulty,  ''  and  I  am  very  little  weight, 
indeed  I  am,  and  I.  can  walk  whenever  the  horses  get 
tired ;  but  I  am  so  anxious  to  get  on  into  the  Confede- 
rate lines.     I'll  pay  you  well  for  your  trouble." 

"Oh,  never  mind  that,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  was 
jest  thinking  that  it  was  a  pretty  rough  place  for  sich 
a  young  lady  as  you  ;  but  if  you  choose  to  try  it  to 
Mount  Jackson,  you  are  heartily  welcome." 

*'  God  bless  you  for  it !  "  said  Ellen,  joyfully  ;  "  I 
won't  keep  you  waiting  a  moment,"  and  in  a  very  short 
time  after  she  was  mounted  on  her  rough  seat  with  her 
trunk  beside  her,  taking  a  smiling  leave  of  her  quon- 
dam host  and  his  daughter,  who  stood  in  the  road  to 
see  her  off. 

vShe  had  scarce  calculated  her  ability  to  stand  the 
roughness  of  her  vehicle,  as  it  jolted  from  side  to  side, 
bringing  her  in  contact  with  the  timbers  most  uncomfort- 
ably, and  in  the  first  half-mile  she  felt  so  bruised  and 
sore  that  she  doubted  her  ability  to  endure  it  any  longer ; 
but  the  old  man  turning  round  just  then  to  see  how 
she  was  getting  on,  a  sudden  fear  of  being  left  behind 
expanded  her  face  into  a  smile,  and  prompted  the  as- 
surance, delivered  with  a  good  deal  of  courage  but  very 
little  truth,  that  she  was  "  getting  on  delightfully." 

And  so  the  process  of  reducing  the  young  lady  to 
mincemeat  continued,  she  enduring  with  the  greatest 
fortitude  blows  which  in  ordinary  times  would  have 
brought  a  shriek  To  her  lips.  She  could  not  bear  it 
longer,  however,  as  she  felt  herself  growing  faint 
under  the  continued  suffering. 

"  How  much  fiirther  is  it  to  Mount  Jackson  ?  "  she 


284  WOMEN,   OR   CHIiONICLES 

shouted  into  her  companion's  ear  the  next  time  lie 
turned  around  towards  her. 

"  What  you  saj^  ?  "  answered  the  old  man,  putting  his 
hand  up  to  his  ear  and  stopping  the  progress  of  the 
wagon. 

"  How  much  farther  is  it  to  3Iount  Jackson  ?  "  re- 
peated Ellen,  in  still  louder  tones. 

''iS'o,  that  ain't  Mount  Jackson,"  said  he,  still  obtuse. 
"Mount  Jackson's  a  good  five  mWafurder  yet." 

"I  believe  then  I'll  have  to  try  and  walk  it,''  said 
Ellen,  the  tears  coming  into  her  ej^es  as  her  bruised 
limbs  made  themselves  evident  from  sudden  change  of 
position. 

"Why,  -what's  the  matter?"  said  her  guide;  "too 
rough  for  you  ?  " 

"I  believe  so.  I  don't  think  I  can  stand  this  any 
longer;  I  am  suffering  so  terribly  from  these  boards 
and  logs." 

"Hum,"  grunted  the  old  man,  hearing  only  a  portion 
of  her  complaint,  "  ef  3'ou  can't  stand,  how  do  you 
expect  to  walk  five  miles  ?  Wait,  lem'me  see,"  he  added, 
dismounting  from  his  horse  and  coming  towards  her, 
and  speaking  with  good-natured  gruffness.  "  You  young 
gals  ain't  worth  much  nohow;  you  was  sorter  made 
to  be  put  in  a  glass  case  to  be  looked  at." 

"'If  the  glass  case  happened  to  be  on  this  vehicle  it 
■would  have  been  smashed  long  ago,"  said  Ellen,  too  low 
to  elicit  an  answer  from  her  companion,  who  went  on 
examining  her  situation. 

"  Well  now,  seems  to  me  that  orter  be  easy  as  a 
rocking-chair  jest  down  in  that  hollow,  with  this  log  on 
this  side  en'  that  plank  at  the  back.  These  nails  is  a 
little  onconvenient  to  the  back,  but  I  can  fix  that  cora- 
fortabler  for  you." 


OF  TEE  LATE   WAB,  285 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Ellen  earnestly,  looking  with 
horror  upon  a  return  to  the  scat  of  torture  ;  "  I  do  not 
think  I  can  try  it  again.  Let  me  walk,  and  you  can 
bring  my  trunk  for  me." 

Bat  upon  being  lifted  down  she  found  herself  so 
bruised  and  lamed  from  the  ride  that  she  could  only 
totter  to  the  side  of  the  road, where  she  sank  down,  and 
all  of  her  courage  deserting  her,  she  burst  into  tears. 

'*  Tut,  tut,  tut,"  said  the  old  man,  really  distressed  to 
see  her  troubled  ;  "  well  now,  that's  too  bad !  Stop, 
wait ;  could  you  ride  behind  me  on  the  horse  ?  That 
would  be  easier-like." 

Interpreting  her  hesitation  rightly  as  a  parley  with 
herself  as  to  the  propriety  of  the  move,  he  continued: 

"  Law !  you  wouldn't  mind  an  old  man  like  me,  what 
has  grandchildren  old  as  you  is;  jest  you  try  it.  Old 
Dobbin  he's  as  gentle  as  a  sucking-pig  and  easy  as  a 
cradle." 

Had  there  been  any  other  resource,  the  young  lady 
would  have  declined  this  offer ;  but  there  was  no  option. 
She  could  not  walk,  nor  ride  as  she  had  been  doing,  so 
with  the  best  grace  she  might  she  saw  the  old  man  fix 
his  cloth  coat  on  the  horse  for  her  to  sit  on,  and  then 
allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  up  after  him.  overcoming 
with  an  effort  the  fears  of  being  kicked  by  the  horse  or 
run  over  by  the  wagon. 

"Now  don't  mind  me,  jest  you  hold  on  tight ;  ef  you 
don't  you'll  slip  down  in  the  road  and  git  hurt,"  said 
her  escort. 

She  did  mind  him,  however,  and  it  was  only  as  she 
found  the  prediction  of  her  slipping  off  into  the  road 
about  to  be  verified  that' she  clung  to  him  as  tightly  as 
he  could  have  wished.     The  old  man  chuckled  merrily 


286  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

as  he  felt  her  slight  arras  tightening  about  him,  but  the 
only  remark  ho  made  was  : 

"  Gals  is  ondoubtedly  slippery  critters,  en'  it  takes  a 
monsus  tight  hold  to  keep  'cm  in  place.  Why,  Miss, 
when  I  was  courtiu' my  Betsy  Ann  —  that's  my  wife, 
Ma'am,  who's  got  twenty-two  grandchildren  now  —  she 
give  mo  the  slip  three  individual  times,  owin'  to  Mike 
Simmons  bein  artcr  her  too ;  en'  it  wasn't  tell  I  told  her 
I  was  goin'  to  Texas  that  she  cum  roun',  en'  Mike  wasn't 
nowhar." 

Ellen  strove  to  enjoy  the  joke  to  the  same  degree 
with  the  narrator,  but  the  anxieties  and  hardships  of  the 
day  were  beginning  to  tell  upon  her  spirits ;  and  if  the 
old  man  had  possessed  eyes  in  the  back  of  his  head,  he 
would  have  seen  her  weeping  silently  behind  the  shield 
afforded  by  his  back. 

"So  you  say  them  Yankees  banquished  you  from 
home?"  continued  he  after  a  silence  of  a  few  minutes. 
"  They  is  rascals,  that's  a  fact !     What  had  you  done  ?  " 

Ellen  narrated,  in  as  few  words  as  she  could,  the  sub- 
stance of  her  adventures. 

The  interest  of  the  story,  on  which  he  was  forced  to 
bestow  his  undivided  attention  in  order  to  hoar  it,  the 
rumbling  of  the  wagon,  and  the  fact  that  the  broad  back 
of  the  man  intercepted  the  vision  of  Ellen  Eandolph, 
conspired  to  prevent  either  one  of  the  parties  from 
being  conscious  of  an  approaching  horse,  or  from  seeing 
that  his  rider,  a  young  Confederate,  was  even  now  dis- 
playing no  inconsiderable  amount  of  interest  in  the 
tones  of  Ellen's  voice,  whose  clear  notes,  raised  to  over- 
come her  companion's  infirmity,  fell  upon  his  ear  when 
he  was  still  some  distance  off. 

It  was  curious  to  note  the  change  which  passed  over 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  287 

his  bronzed  face  as  the  first  sound  caught  his  attention; 
itsj^okc  of  recognition,  astonishment,  anxiety  and  agita- 
tion. He  first  moderated  the  pace  of  his  steed  and  then 
stopped  it  entirely,  listening  intently.  As  the  voice 
came  nearer  and  nearer  he  cauo-ht  the  words  : 

"And  they  sent  me  from  my  home  on  half  an  hour's 
notice,  under  a  guard  of  twenty-eight  men/' 

"MissEandof,  ecmpossible!  "  said  the  horseman  as  the 
continued  progress  of  the  wagon  brought  it  alongside  of 
him,  and  the  confirmation  of  his  first  conviction  reached 
him  in  the  familiar  features  of  Ellen  Randolph  appear- 
ing from  behind  the  person  of  her  escort. 

At  the  same  moment  her  glance  fell  upon  the  face  of 
Mr.  Hautman.  All  unprepared  as  she  was  for  his 
appearance,  it  is  a  mercy  that  she  did  not  throw  herself 
from  the  horse,  which  would  have  brought  her  directly 
under  the  wheels  of  the  wagon.  As  it  was,  the  old  man 
found  himself  suddenly  released  from  the  clasp  in  which 
she  had  held  him,  and  had  only  time  to  stop  his  horses 
by  a  jerk  of  the  reins  before  the  catastrophe  occurred, 
and  the  young  lady  stood  crying  and  exclaiming  in  the 
road  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hautman  !  Mr.  Hautman !  I  am  so  glad  !  " 

"  What  is  de  matter,  my  dear  young  lady  ?  "  said  the 
gentleman,  dismounting  and  seizing  her  hand. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  necessary  explanations 
could  be  given,  as  Ellen  was  far  too  much  excited,  agi- 
tated, and  embarrassed  to  attempt  a  very  lucid  account 
of  herself ;  but  sufficient  was  gathered  from  her  incohe- 
rent expressions  to  give  him  a  clue  to  the  situation. 

"  "Wait  for  me  a  minit,"  said  the  impulsive  G-erman, 
darting  up  the  road  a  short  distance  and  returning  im- 
mediately.    "  I  haf  take  a  leetel  curse  of  de  Yankees 


288  WOMEN,  OR  CHROXICLES 

now,  en'  I  feels  better ;  but  the  Dievel  will  git  Aleelroy 
for  (lis,  be  sadeesfied  on  dat." 

Ellen's  laugh  cheeked  her  tears  at  his  comical  earn- 
estness of  manner. 

"I  think,  if  I  might  choose,  I  would  rather  he  would 
get  Purdy,"  said  she.  "  I  don't  think  Milroy  was  as 
active  a  mover  in  my  expedition  as  he  was." 

''  Well,  he  vill  git  bofe  den,"  said  Mr.  Hautman,  glad 
to  see  that  she  was  recovering  some  of  her  old  spirit. 

But  the  journey  to  Mount  Jackson  must  be  continued. 
In  vain  3Ir.  Hautman  contended  for  the  privilege  of 
substituting  himself  as  her  escort  and  the  half  of  his 
horse  as  her  mode  of  conveyance  ;  for  Ellen  with 
strange  obstinancy  positively  declined  his  offer,  and 
declared  her  preference  for  her  former  arrangement. 
So  the  young  gentleman  was  obliged  to  content  him- 
self with  the  second  post  of  honor,  by  her  side,  from 
which  position  he  managed  to  elicit  the  information  he 
desired  about  herself  and  their  mutual  friends  in  Win- 
chester, giving  her  in  return  a  graphic  account  of  his 
own  adventures,  particularly  dwelling  upon  his  visit  to 
Eose  Hill,  where  he  had  so  successfully  sustained  the 
character  of  piano-tuner. 

The  rest  of  the  ride  to  Mount  Jackson  proved  much 
shorter  than  Ellen  had  any  idea  it  would  do.  It  is 
rather  a  pretty  little  village,  with  a  background  of 
mountains,  with  the  smiling  fields  and  pretty  country- 
houses  dotting  the  landscape  between.  At  the  entrance 
of  the  town  were  the  large  brown  board  hospital 
buildings  erected  by  General  Jackson,  forming  the 
first  traces  which  Ellen  had  seen  of  the  presence  of 
the  Southern  army,  and  even  that  was  a  footprint 
of   the   past.      The   hotel   was   either   more   inviting 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  289 

in  appearance,  or  Ellen  waa  disposed  to  take  a 
more  cheerful  view  of  everything  now  that  she  no 
longer  felt  herself  alone.  The  kind-hearted  old  man 
who  had  lent  her  such  material  aid,  took  leave  of  his 
young  charge  with  an  empressment  of  manner  which 
led  Ellen  to  fear  that  he  might  attempt  to  act  out  his 
character  of  grandfather.  He  positively  refused  all 
remuneration  for  his  services;  and  Ellen  promised  if 
she  ever  came  down  the  Yalley  again  that  she  would 
hunt  him  out  in  his  home  among  the  hills,  and  make 
the  acquaintance  of  *'  Betsy  Ann." 

Night  had  almost  drawn  her  curtain  as  Ellen  threw 
herself  into  an  easy-chair  in  the  little  parlor,  to  wait 
until  Mr.  Hautman  made  some  arrangements  for  a 
room  for  her.  Still  dreadfully  wearied  and  bruised 
from  her  long  journey,  and  almost  sick  from  fasting, 
the  sight  of  a  familiar  friendly  face  had  turned  the 
whole  current  of  her  feelings.  A  cheerful  talk  and  a 
hearty  laugh  are  at  last  the  best  tonic  Nature  affords, 
and  this  the  bright,  joyous  temper  of  Mr.  Hautman 
always  gave  her. 

"  Vill  you  go  to  your  room  now,  or  vait  till  supper  ?  " 
said  that  gentleman,  making  his  appearance  after  a 
few  moments'  absence. 

"  Oh,  to  my  room  by  all  means,"  said  Ellen,  glancing 
at  her  disordered  attire  ;  "  though  I  shall  be  ready  for 
my  supper,  and  glad  to  get  it,  in  a  few  minutes." 

It  was  at  this  same  supper  that  Ellen  received  her  first 
lessons  in  Southern  cookery.  They  were  introduced  into 
a  long,  low  room,  with  a  table  spread  through  its  entire 
length,  and  around  it  were  seated  a,  motley  crowd, 
mostly  soldiers,  though  there  was  a  light  sprinkling  of 
peaceable  citizens  and  women.  Ellen  could  not  avoid 
14 


290  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

a  consciousness  as  she  entered  the  room  that  she  was 
the  observed  of  all  observers,  as  evciy  eye  turned  upon 
her  curiously,  and  it  was  with  flaming  cheeks  that 
she  gained  her  seat. 

"  Tea  or  coffee  ?  "  asked  the  waiter. 

"  Coffee,"  answered  Ellen,  inwardly  rejoicing  at  the 
prospect  of  the  stimulating  beverage  which  would  be  so 
particularly  grateful  after  her  fatiguing  journey.  A 
cupful  of  liquid  of  promising  appearance  further  ex- 
cited her  anticipations  of  enjoyment,  which,  however, 
were  completely  blasted  by  the  first  mouthful. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  Mr.  Hautman, 
who  was  watching  her  dismay  with  intense  enjoy- 
ment. 

"  Deed  not  you  say  to  de  vaiter  you  vant  coffee  ? " 
he  asked  in  pretended  surprise. 

*•  Yes,"  said  Ellen  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  but  I  never  tasted 
such  stuff'  as  this." 

"  Fy,  it  is  de  var  best  rye-coffee,"  said  he,  laughing. 

"Well,"  said  the  young  lady,  still  in  a  tone  which 
could  not  extend  beyond  his  ear,  ''  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  I  can't  drink  it.     Ask  the  waiter  for  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Bring  some  tea  to  de  lady,"  said  Mr.  Hautman, 
stopping  a  waiter  who  was  hurrying  past  with  all  the 
self-importance  which  attaches  to  his  peculiar  profes- 
sion. 

"  Sassafras  or  t'other  ?  "  said  the  man. 

''  Sassafras  or  t'other  !  "  repeated  Ellen,  feeling  as  if 
she  had  somehow  chanced  upon  a  people  speaking  a 
new  language  to  her.     "  What  does  he  mean  ?  " 

"  He  means,"  said  Mr.  Hautman,  as  soon  as  he  could 
command  himself  sufficiently,  "  vill  you  have  sassafras 
tea  or  de  udder  ?  " 


OF  TUE  LATE   WAR.  291 

''Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  waiter.  "Sassafras  is  the 
regular  article;  t'other  is  two  dollars  extra  a  cup." 

"  Bring  me  genuine  tea,"  said  Ellen,  feeling  greatly 
embarrassed  at  the  mere  mentioK  of  imce  before  a 
gentleman, 

"  Geuwine  !  genwine!"  said  the  man,  thoughtfully. 
^'Wo  is  jist  out  of  dat  article,  Ma'am;  'spect  a  new 
supply  to-morrow." 

This  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Hautman,  whose  explo- 
sive laugh  startled  everybody  in  the  room. 

"  Bring  de  yong  lady  some  t'udder  den,"  said  he,  as 
soon  as  he  could  speak;  and  Ellen  enjoyed  a  very  pal- 
atable cup  of  green  tea  in  spite  of  the  brown  sugar 
sweetening  to  which  she  was  obliged  to  submit. 

l^ot withstanding  her  fatigue  it  was  a  long  time  after 
Ellen  had  retired  to  rest  before  she  could  so  command 
the  bewildering  maze  of  thought  which  beset  her  brain  as 
to  go  to  sleep  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  chaos  of  trouble 
and  anxiety,  the  pleasure  of  one  meeting  which  had 
renewed  a  delightful  past,  one  word  which  opened  up 
a  sweet  future,  had  their  places.  I  leave  my  reader 
to  guess  what  they  were. 


292  WOME^\   OR  CHROXICLES 


CHAPTEE  XXYII. 

"  When  the  latest  strife  is  lost,  and  all  is  done  with, 
Ere  Tve  slumber  in  the  spirit  and  the  brain, 
We  drowse  back  to  dreams,  to  days  that  life  began  with, 
And  their  tender  life  returns  to  U3  again. 

*'  I  have  cast  away  the  tangle  and  the  torment 

Of  the  cords  that  bound  my  life  up  in  a  mesh  ; 
And  the  pulse  begins  to  throb  that  long  lay  dormant 
'Neath  their  pressure,  and  the  old  wounds  bleed  afresh  ; 

"  And  my  being  is  confused  with  new  experience, 
And  changed  to  something  other  than  it  was ; 
And  the  Future  with  the  Past  is  set  at  yariance, 
And  Life  falters  with  the  burdens  which  it  has." 

— Owen  Meredith. 

We  have  reached  that  point  in  our  story  which  leads 
us  away  from  the  more  desultory  scenes  of  border  war- 
fare into  the  midst  of  that  city  so  long  contended  for, 
so  bravely  defended  from  the  first  ascending  to  the 
final  bursting  of  that  fair  bubble,  which  catching  its 
bright  hues  from  the  hopes  of  a  nation,  danced  gaily 
and  buoyantly  before  it,  till,  like  the  ignis  fatuus  of  the 
desert,  it  led  it  into  bogs  and  quicksands  and  final  irre- 
mediable ruin. 

Richmond,  built  upon  its  many  hills ;  the  capital  of 
Yirginia,  the  centre  of  the  refinement,  elegance,  aud  hos- 
pitality of  the  olden  days,  and  holding  fast  its  laurels  to 
the  latest  time  ;  Richmond  chosen  by  a  new-born  na- 
tion as  the  capital  of  its  new-born  country  ;  the  spot 
around  which  cluster  the  brightest  and  darkest  hours 
of   the    Southern    Confederacy,  the    grave    of  dead 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAR.  293 

heroes  and  the  grave  of  dead  hopes  —  who  can  ever 
look  upon  the  footprints  of  her  past  without  a  thrill,  or 
read  the  pages  of  her  story  without  a  tear  ! 

Eichmond,  in  spite  of  the  many  wrinkles,  which  of 
right  her  ripe  years  should  have  imprinted  upon  her 
fair  face,  preserves  an  appearance  of  perpetual  youth, 
due  to  the  general  greenness  and  freshness  which  per- 
vades it.  It  is  altogether  more  like  a  village  than  a 
city,  the  dwelling-houses  being  built  back  from  the 
street,  with  pretty  enclosures  between  them  and  the 
hard,  practical-looking  brick  pavements,  filled  with  a 
profusion  of  flowers  and  clambering  vines,  and  car- 
peted with  the  soft  green  grass.  There  is  no  crowd- 
ing of  the  houses,  no  sandwiching  of  the  people;  none 
of  the  dull  uniformity  which  distinguishes  other  cities, 
where  the  long  line  of  tenement-houses  reserve  for  a 
man's  home  no  distinctive  features,  and  where  he  is  as 
apt  to  call  at  his  neighbor's  house  as  at  his  own. 

In  Eichmond  each  dwelling  has  a  fashion  peculiar  to 
itself.  Here  is  one  of  cheerful  red  brick,  with  its  green 
blinds  and  white  porch,  next  door  to  the  more  stately 
brown-stone  front,  with  its  iron  verandah  and  dark 
window-frames;  and  just  across  the  wa^-,  with  an  un- 
deniable smile  of  self-gratulation,  is  a  pretty  little  cot- 
tage, looking  like  a  refreshing  glimpse  of  country-life 
in  the  midst  of  the  city. 

In  the  business  portion  of  the  town,  however,  these 
peculiarities  are  for  the  most  part  lost,  and  we  find 
the  same  hard,  stiff,  imperturbable  proportions  which 
distinguish  other  cities,  a  sort  of  grim,  determinate 
expression  which  the  unswerving  pursuit  of  gain  be- 
stows alike  on  individuals  and  houses.  The  city  is 
bounded  on  the  south  by  the  James  Eiver,  which  in- 


294  TFOJfiJiV^,   OR  CEROKICLES 

deed  cuts  it  in  two,  though  the  southern  portion  as- 
sumes the  name  of  Manchester.  It  extends  north 
from  the  river  over  a  succession  of  elevated  table-lands, 
bearing  the  names  of  Shockoe,  Gamble,  Church,  and 
Hollywood ;  and  from  any  portion  of  the  city  the 
James  Kiver  presents  a  striking  object  in  the  view,  its 
abrupt  windings  in  an  out  bringing  it  for  many  miles 
within  the  range  of  vision.  Church  Hill  occupies  the 
north-eastern  portion  of  the  town,  and  is  crowned  by 
the  white  walls  of  Chimborazo  Hospital,  looking  like 
the  battlements  of  a  formidable  fortress  in  the  distance. 
Shockoe  Hill  is  entirely  covered  by  the  streets  of  the 
city,  and  occupies  the  western  portion  of  it.  Gamble's 
Hill  is  a  beautiful  elevation  directly  above  the  river, 
and  is  used  by  the  people  as  a  place  of  resort  for  pur- 
poses of  exercise  and  amusement,  a  sort  of  free  park, 
where  the  children  are  permitted  to  play  at  will,  and 
in  warm  weather  it  is  dotted  over  with  them,  rolling 
hoops,  playing  ball,  and  making  the  air  vocal  with  their 
fresh  young  voices. 

To  the  west  of  Gamble's  Hill  is  Hollywood,  holding 
a  separate  place  from  the  town  proper  —  a  city  in  itself, 
a  city  whose  population  is  ever  on  the  increase,  and 
the  pestilence  and  war  which  thin  the  busy  streets  but 
adds  to  it.     It  is  the  silent  city  of  the  dead  ! 

The  site  has  been  well  chosen,  and  Nature  is  per- 
mitted to  have  her  own  wild  way  there,  except  for  oc- 
casional softening  touches  of  her  ruggedness  which  art 
bestows,  but  so  gently  that  not  one  grace  is  marred. 
It  is  a  succession  of  hill  and  valley,  with  rippling 
streams  running  with  subdued  murmurs  among.  Here 
the  mourner  may  go  and  weep  by  the  grave  of  her 
loved  and  lost,  and  not  fear  the  curious  eye.     The  dead 


OF  THE  LATE  WAIt.  295 

lie  in  the  midst  of  Nature,  in  silent  nooks,  sheltered  by 
the  dark  cypress  and  pine.  Here,  "  the  rich  and  poor 
meet  together."  "  Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes."  There 
on  the  hill-top  is  reared  a  lofty  monument,  speaking 
eloquently  of  the  virtuesj  station,  and  wealth  of  the 
dust  which  lies  under ;  and  in  the  valley  below  is  the 
lowly  headstone,  bearing  name  and  date,  and  that  is 
all ;  but  they  each  lie  in  the  bosom  of  the  same  kind 
Mother-Earth,  and  the  God  of  their  spirits  knows 
no  difference. 

It  was  an  early  spring  twilight,  when  night  was  con- 
tending successfully  with  day,  and  art,  for  once  usurp- 
ing the  cause  of  the  fallen  monarch,  was  beginning  to 
supply  her  place  with  the  twinkling  lights  which  shone 
like  long  lines  of  ruddy  stars  along  the  side- walks. 

In  an  unpretending  dwelling  in  a  Quiet,  retired  street, 
Mrs.  Mason  and  her  daughter  sat  at  work,  their  ears 
evidently  intent  upon  disentangling  the  various  voices 
from  a  babel  of  sound  in  the  room  next  to  them,  the  door 
of  which  was  open.  Babj^-language  in  its  different 
stages,  mingled  with  the  graver  tones  of  maturer  years, 
letting  fall  variously  words  of  tenderness,  remonstrance, 
command,  entreaty,  and  admonition,  now  quieting  a 
fretful  cry,  and  now  subduing  boisterous  playfulness. 

"There,  Charlie,  let  sister  Annie  undress  you.  Oh, 
Mamie,  you  saucy  little  rogue  f  shut  up  your  blue  eyes  ; 
see !  baby  is  watching  you.  Cynthia,  my  darling,  put 
that  down.     I  shall  be  glad  when  you  are  all  asleep." 

"Mamma!  mamma!  "  called  out  a  little  voice,  '-'see, 
Charlie  has  gone  !  "  and  as  the  words  were  spoken,  a 
frolicsome,  half-dressed  figure  dashed  in  through  the 
open  door,  followed  by  a  little  girl,  Avith  a  sober,  moth- 
erly face,  quite  too  old  and  sedate  for  the  setting  of 
flaxen  curls  by  which  it  was  surrounded. 


296  WOMB^\   OR   CHRONICLES 

Charlie  showed  plainly  where  wag  his  most  certain 
refuge,  as  he  bounded  into  Aunt  Mary's  arms  and 
laughed  defiance  from  that  citadel. 

The  little  girl  stopped  short,  with  a  face  where  an- 
noyance, anger,  and  uncertainty  all  took  their  stand. 
At  last  turning  to  Mrs.  Mason,  she  said,  with  a 
womanly  dignity  which  sat  ludicrously  enough  on  her 
infantile  face  : 

"Grandma,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  Poor  Mamma  has  so 
much  trouble,  and  I  try  to  help  her  ;  but  Charlie  is  a 
bad  boy,  and  Aunt  Mary  'courages  him.  I  can't  say 
must  to  her;  but,  really,  Charlie  ought  to  go  to  bed,'* 
and  the  little  woman  flourished  a  night-gown  she  car- 
ried in  her  hand  as  a  badge  of  her  office. 

"Mary/'  said  Mrs.  Mason,  "  j^ou  do  spoil  that  child 
terribly.  Charlie,  go  with  sister  Annie  ;  don't  give  any 
more  trouble." 

But  Charlie  still  resisted  until  Aunt  Mary  whis- 
pered in  his  ear.  Evidently  it  was  a  case  of  bribery 
and  corruption,  as  he  answered  aloud : 

"And  a  apple  too  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  a  cake  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  take  a  walk  down  to  the  river  and  frow  stones 
in?" 

"Yes,  if  you  are  a  good  boy  and  go  right  to  bed." 

These  important  preliminaries  settled,  the  young 
man  permitted  himself  to  be  led  away  by  the  big  sister, 
whose  brow  cleared  at  the  solution  of  her  difficulties. 

I  have  my  own  private  doubts  whether  the  applo 
and  the  cake,  the  walk  and  the  whispered  reward  were 
rightly  due,  as  from  the  sounds  issuing  through  the 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  297 

open  door  it  was  evident  that  it  commanded  the  united 
energies  and  strategy  of  princii:)al  and  subordinate 
officers  to  get  the  "  good  boy  ^'  in  bed,  though  it  was  at 
hist  accomplished ;  and  a  lady  in  deep  mourning,  with 
tho  chastened  light  of  a  great  sorrow  upon  her  face, 
appeared  through  the  open  door,  closely  followed  by 
the  ''  little  woman,"  who,  raising  her  hands  and  shaking 
her  head  from  side  to  side  as  an  appeal  for  sympathy, 
after  the  manner  of  women  of  larger  growth,  said  : 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Mary,  that  boy  will  give  Mamma  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  if  you  don't  stop  spoiling  him  ;  he  is 
perfectly  'corrigible  now.  Oh  me  !  I  most  wish  all 
our  boys  was  girls." 

They  all  smiled  at  the  precocity  of  the  youthful 
guardian,  and  Mrs.  Marshal  said  : 

"It  is  true  Charlie  is  more  trouble  than  all  the  rest 
of  the  children  put  together  just  now,  and  it  is  a  good 
deal  due  to  Aunt  Mary's  spoiliug  ;  but  he  is  going  to 
be  the  man  of  the  house  after  awhile,  sister  Annie,"  and 
an  expression  of  pain  crossed  her  face  even  while  she 
smiled. 

"  I  hope  he  won't  grow  up  in  time  to  be  killed  in  the 
war,'^  said  the  child. 

Mrs.  Marshal  rose  hastily  and  turned  away  to  hide 
the  touch  on  the  raw  spot  in  her  heart.  When  she  next 
spoke  there  was  no  tremor  of  the  voice  to  attract  at- 
tention;  she  even  said  cheerfully: 

"  Come,  little  woman,  let's  get  ready  for  tea.  I  expect 
Grandma  and  Aunt  Mary  are  hungry  by  this  time," 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  preparations  for  the  simple 
repast  were  laid  on  the  table.  The  rattling  of  the  cups 
acted  as  a  stimulus  to  the  dormant  life  in  the  next  room, 
and  a  company  of  infantry  organised  themselves  into  a 
14* 


298  WOMUN.   OB  CURONIGLES 

storming  party  under  the  command  of  the  gallant 
Captain  Cliarlcs,  having  for  their  war-cry,  "I  want 
some  bread  !  "  echoed  variously  —  "I  want  shum  bed  ! 
I  wantie  bed!  bed  !  " 

A  parley  with  the  enemy  ensued  which  resulted  in  a 
compromise,  and  the  hostile  party  retired  peaceably, 
with  their  hands  full,  to  slumber  on  the  fruits  of  their 
victory,  namely,  crumbs. 

This  commotion  prevented  the  sound  of  carriage 
wheels  at  the  door  from  being  heard,  and  also  the  ring 
at  the  bell.  So  the  surprise  was  unmitigated  by  prep- 
aration when  the  door  opened  and  Ellen  Eandolph  ap- 
peared in  it,  followed  by  Mr.  George  Holcombe. 

^'  Any  admittance  for  a  stranger  ?  "  said  she,  laughing 
at  the  astonishment  of  the  various  members  of  the 
party. 

Explanations  and  questions  were  the  order  of  the  day, 
and  the  night  was  far  advanced  before  Ellen's  long 
story  was  finished  and  the  traveller  permitted  to  rest. 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAR,  299 


CHAPTEE   XXVIII. 

*' Grief  fills  the  room  up  of  my  absent  child, 
Lies  in  his  bed,  walks  up  and  down  with  me, 
Puts  on  his  pretty  looks,  repeats  his  words. 
Remembers  me  of  all  his  gracious  parts, 
*        Stuffs  out  his  vacant  garments  with  his  form  : 
Then  have  I  reason  to  be  fond  of  grief !  " 

King  John. 

For  some  days  after  the  sad  death  of  her  child,  Mar- 
garet Murray  seemed,  so  to  speak,  in  an  amazement  of 
grief.  She  excited  the  utmost  anxiety  of  her  friends  by 
her  sad  unlikeness  to  herself.  She  seemed  to  have  no 
power  of  resistance,  but  was  a  mere  passive  machine 
in  their  hands.  All  her  strength  of  will  was  gone  with 
her  interest  in  her  surroundings.  She  would  lie  all  day 
perfectly  quiet,  her  eyes  open,  until  in  sheer  despair 
Mrs.  Holcombe,  Mary,  or  Mammy  would  propose  a 
change  —  a  walk,  or  for  her  to  sit  in  Mammy's  easy- 
chair  ;  then  without  a  word  she  would  rise  up  with  her 
wan  cheeks  and  tearless  eyes,  and  do  as  she  was  told 
with  a  weary  movement,  as  if  life's  light  had  burned 
itself  out.  Always  reticent  of  her  feelings,  she  was 
more  so  than  ever  now.  Grief  and  she  were  sisters,  and 
dwelt  alone  — 

*'■  the  grief  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart  and  bids  it  break," 

Once  only  she  seemed  willing  to  speak  and  be  spoken 
to  ;  it  was  in  one  of  those  silent  watches  of  the  night 
when  sleep  flies  the  eyelids,  and  the  tossing,  troubled 
spirit  longs  for  the  light.     Distressed  by  her  tossing 


300  WOMBJ^,  OB  CRROmCLES 

and  sighs,  Mrs.  Holcombe,  vrho  slept  -^ith  her,  said,  put- 
ting her  arms  about  her : 

"  My  sister  —  child  —  what  is  it  ?    Let  me  help  you." 

"  Oh,  Mamma !  "  —  it  was  a  cry  and  a  groan  —  "  my 
baby  cries  for  me  all  the  time,  and  I  cannot  get  to  him." 

Mrs.  Holcombe  had  never  lost  a  child,  but  instinct 
taught  her  what  the  feeling  must  be  when  the  mother's 
self-denying  care  is  no  longer  needed,  when  imagination 
fills  out  the  vacancy  for  a  moment  and  retires,  leaving 
the  sense  of  loss  more  intense.  She  said  in  her  gentle, 
loving  voice : 

"  My  darling,  is  it  no  comfort  to  feel  that  he  will  never 
weep  again?  The  Saviour  with  His  own  soft  hand 
has  wiped  away  his  tears.  Try  to  think  of  this,  dear. 
And  a  thought  has  occurred  to  mo  so  often  in  the  last 
few  days  with  regard  to  our  darling  baby,  which  to  me 
is  sweet :  that  we  may  live  out  long  years,  years  which 
would  have  seen  him  grown  to  manhood,  blotting  out 
from  our  memories  his  baby  loveliness;  we  may  lie 
down  burdened  with  cares,  disappointments,  losses, 
afflictions,  and  clasp  death  as  a  boon,  and  then  I  am  sure 
we  will  find  it  sweet  to  meet  our  baby  with  all  of  his 
baby  loveliness  purified  and  sj^iritualised ;  it  will  be 
very  sweet  to  find  him  yet  a  baby,  unsoiled  and  un- 
touched by  the  taint  of  sin  and  care  as  when  we  gave 
him  up.  Oh,  Margie,  rejoice  in  being  the  mother  of  an 
angel;  it  is  a  great  glory."' 

She  was  glad  to  feel  her  sobbing;  tears  came  so  sel- 
dom, and  her  eyes  looked  dry  and  hot  as  if  they  craved 
the  moisture. 

"I  seem  to  feel  nothing,"  she  said  at  length;  "my 
heart  is  like  a  stone.  Oh  if  I  could  only  lay  my  head 
on  my  husband's  bosom  !  " 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  301 

<'  Let  US  hope  it  won't  be  long,  dearie  ;  but  don't  for- 
get  you  have  to  help  him  to  bear  it.  Don't  add  to  his 
erief  by  meeting  him  thus." 

"No!  no!  X  must  not.  Poor  fellow!  Help  me, 
Mamma ;  I  cannot  do  anything  without  you." 

"  Well,  go  to  sleep  now,  as  the  first  step." 

She  was  a  long  time  quiet  before  her  regular  breath- 
inn-  conveyed  to  her  bed-fellow  the  welcome  intelligence 
that  her  remedy  had  been  taken.  Long  and  anxiously 
did  Mrs  Holcombe  ponder  over  this  matter,  and  before 
morning  dawned  she  had  determined  to  take  some 
decisive  step  with  regard  to  their  present  condition, 
a  change  of  scene  being  absolutely  necessary  for  Mar- 

"""it  seemed  strange  to  her  at  first  to  be  taking  the 
lead  ;  she  was  so  timid  and  had  always  depended  upon 
others  :  but  there  was  a  firmness  and  character  under 
her  soft  exterior  which  the  present  emergency  devel- 
oped. . 
■  She  was  glad  to  see  that  their  conversation  was  not 
fora-otten,  as  when  her  wearied  eyes  opened  from  the 
only  sleep  which  had  visited  them,  she  saw  Margaret 
already  dressed,  standing  before  the  window. 

*'  Up  and  dressed,  dearie  ?  "  she  said,  jumping  out  of 
bed  with  a  smile  of  congratulation ;  "and  here,  lazy 
woman  that  1  am,  I  am  still  asleep,  with  the  bright  sun 
shining  in  my  face." 

It  required  no  great  penetration  to  see  through  the 
mask  which  this  gay  exterior  constituted,  and  none 
knew  that  better  than  Margaret  Murray,  though  she 
turned  with  an  answering  smile  which  spoke  sadly  of 
renewed  determination  to  fight  against  this  luxury 
of  sorrow  which  was  fast  consuming  her. 


302  WOMJSN,  on  CHRONICLES 

As  soon  as  the  business  of  dressing  was  over,  the  two 
women  set  to  work  to  j^iit  to  rights  the  simple  little 
apartment,  smiling  over  their  awkwardness  in  the 
unusual  duties.  They  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Mammy. 

"  There,  never  mind,  Misstis,"  said  the  old  woman  in 
a  mortified  tone  of  voice,  "  dis  ain't  no  fittin'  work  for 
you.  Set  down  ;  I'll  have  it  all  straight  in  a  minute." 
And  although  Mrs.  Holcombe  tried  to  convince  her 
that  it  was  the  best  thing  for  them  to  have  to  exert 
themselves,  it  was  no  use ;  she  never  would  stand  by 
and  see  the  white  ladies  workinor. 

This  business  dispensed  with,  a  table  was  set  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  and  the  frugal  meal  placed  upon  it. 
It  consisted  merely  of  corn  bread  and  ham,  no  butter, 
tea  or  coffee;  and  yet  these  ladies,  accustomed,  to  all 
the  elegances  and  luxuries  of  life,  sat  down  to  it  with- 
out a  word  of  reference  to  their  past.  Care  and  sor- 
row had  built  their  nest  too  securely  in  the  depths 
of  their  hearts  to  allow  room  for  such  minor  considera-. 
tions.  Old  Mammy  and  Uncle  Bob  stood  behind  their 
chairs,  striving  to  repair  all  other  deficiencies  by  their 
formal  attention  to  the  old-time  etiquette  of  the 
table,  and  never  in  their  best  days  had  the  ladies  been 
served  with  more  loving  attention. 

"  Now,  dearie,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe  when  breakfast 
was  over,  S2:)eaking  to  Mrs.  Murray,  "I  want  Mary  and 
yourself  to  take  Eddy  out  into  the  grove;  jDcrhaps  in 
the  fields  you  may  find  some  wild  strawberries,  and 
Mammy  and  myself  will  go  over  to  the  dear  old  garden 
and  see  if  we  can  find  anything  for  dinner." 

She  had  purposely  chosen  the  direction  leading  away 
from  the  new-made  ruins  of  the  house  for  their  rambles, 


OF  TBB  LATE  WAR,  303 

and  privately  admonished  Mary  to  keep  her  sister  busy 
and  interested  as  much  as  she  could.  "You,  too,  look 
l)ale,  darling,"  sho  said,  patting  her  cheek  ;  *'  the  fresh 
air  will  do  you  good  also.  Eemember  who  it  is  that 
has  sent  our  trials,  or  at  least  permitted  them,  and 
don't  faint  or  be  discouraged  ;  I  feel  confident  that  the 
end  is  near." 

As  soon  as  she  left  the  house  she  confided  to  Mammy 
a  scheme  she  had  formed. 

''I  intend,"  she  said,  "to  go  directly  to  Captain 
Brown  and  see  if  I  cannot  induce  him  to  send  us 
through  the  lines.  Margaret  must  have  a  change  of 
scene,  or  she  will  either  die  or  lose  her  reason." 

"Humph,"  said  Mammy,  "I  has  my  doubts,  Misstis, 
w^hether  'twill  be  any  account  to  you.  Howsumdeaver, 
you  knows  best." 

Their  progress  was  slow,  owing  to  Mammy's  feeble- 
ness, and  they  instinctively  took  the  longest  way  round 
to  avoid  the  blackened  walls,  the  sight  of  which  brought 
such  keen  pain  to  their  hearts.  They  had  not  gone 
very  far,  however,  before  they  saw  a  party  of  cavalry 
approaching,  and  at  their  head  Captain  Brown. 

Mrs.  Holcombe  had  thought  herself  fullj^  nerved  for 
the  interview,  but  she  could  not  repress  the  shudder 
the  mere  sight  of  him  brought.  It  did  not  prevent  her 
raising  her  hand,  as  an  intimation  that  she  desired 
to  speak  with  him. 

"Mrs.  Holcombe,  is  it  possible!"  said  he,  leaping 
from  his  horse.  "  Can  I  serve  you  ?  "  There  was  an 
eagerness  in  his  manner  which  drew  her  eyes  to  his 
face.  Til  ere  was  a  change  there  which  she  could  not 
read ;  but  could  she  have  known  the  tortures  to  which 
he  had  been  subjected  since  the  interview  at  the  cabin. 


304  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

she  would  have  understood  it  better.  Hi.s  sin  had 
found  him  out  and  was  persistently  pursuing  him, 
assuming  the  form  of  Margaret  Murray  as  she  looked 
when  she  stood  beside  the  body  of  her  dead  child,  her 
accusing  eye  looking  reproachfully  at  him  as  she  pointed 
him  out  as  the  incendiary  and  murderer.  Sometimes 
her  broken  voice  would  break  upon  his  ear  with  all  the 
distinctness  of  reality  as  she  said,  "Yes,  I  pity  you." 
Night  and  day,  with  the  persistency  and  horror  of  a 
spiritual  visitation,  did  his  imagination  thus  pursue 
him  until  he  feared  to  be  alone  or  unoccupied  for  a 
moment.  His  men  looked  on  with  wonder  while  he 
rode  hither  and  thither,  ever  projecting  some  new  expe- 
dition with  unflagging  energy.  But  night  had  to  come. 
He  might  lay  the  evil  spirit  during  the  day;  but  when 
darkness  covered  the  earth  and  men  slumbered  around 
him,  in  vain  he  closed  his  bodily  eyes  while  his  mental 
eyes  took  in  the  vision  of  the  tall,  dark,  pale  woman 
and  her  dead  child.  And  the  words,  "I  pity  you!  I 
pity  you  1  I  j)ity  you!  "  rose  and  fell  with  the  beating 
of  his  heart,  changed  its  tone  from  groan  to  shriek,  and 
back  again  from  shriek  to  groan.  So  horrible  was  it  to 
him  that  if  he  could  have  rebuilt  Eose  Hill  by  a  word, 
and  witnessed  Margaret  Murray  in  all  the  radiant  tri- 
umph of  her  beauty  and  happiness,  he  would  have  done 
it  gladly,  eagerly.  All  night  he  had  been  pondering 
how  he  could  relieve  himself  from  this  relentless  night- 
mare. He  even,  wretched  man  that  he  was,  framed 
some  sort  of  a  prayer  for  deliverance,  but  he  rose  with 
the  question  still  unsettled ;  and  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Hol- 
combe  standing  by  the  roadside  with  uplifted  hand  was 
the  first  ground  for  hope  he  had  experienced.  Xo 
wonder  he  greeted  her  eagerly,  and  listened  as  a  man 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR  305 

under  condemnation  would  do  for  his  reprieve,  for  the 
first  words  which  should  fall  from  her  lips. 

"  I  come  to  ask  if  there  is  no  way  by  which  we  could 
be  conveyed  through  the  lines  to  our  friends.  My 
daughter's  condition  is  such  that  change  of  scene  la 
absolutely  necessary." 

It  is  strange  that  this  her  first  sentence  should  have 
revived  for  an  instant  the  mad  passion  to  subdue  the 
will  of  Margaret  in  the  mind  of  this  man. 

"Did  —  did  —  she  send  you  to  me  to  make  the  re- 
quest ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh  no,  of  course  not,"  was  the  surprised  answer; 
«  she  does  not  even  know  of  my  coming.  Mrs.  Murray 
is  peculiar  about  some  things,  and  I  doubt  whether  she 
would  have  agreed  to  the  step,  though  now  I  suppose 
she  would  scarce  resist ;  her  power  of  will  seems  utterly 
gone,  she  can  be  led  like  a  child."  She  spoke  sadly,  and 
the  man  turned  away  to  hide  the  effect  of  her  words. 
They  conjured  up  before  him  a  picture  too  painful  to 
be  contemplated :  this  glorious  type  of  womanhood, 
strong  in  everything  and  leading  by  the  mere  force  of 
her  character,  reduced  by  the  grief  with  which  he  had 
deluged  her  to  the  weakness  of  a  little  child. 

"Ah,  unreasonable  man !  "  whispered  the  demon  of  his 
imagination  in  his  ear,  "  is  it  not  the  result  you  labored 
for?  Glory  in  it  now!  This  is  your  triumph  — 
rejoice!  This  is  the  hour  you  have  dreamed  of— 
welcome  it!" 

But  alas!  too  often  does  it  happen  that,  like  the 
apples  of  Sodom,  our  gratified  desires  turn  to  ashes 
upon  our  lips. 

"  We  fear  everything  for  her,"  continued  Mrs.  Hol- 
combe,  hastening  to  deepen  the  impression  she  saw  she 


306  WOMEN,  OR  CURONICLES 

had  made,  "unless  we  can  remove  her  from  scenes  so 
pregnant  with  grief  for  her." 

He  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  stop  her,  and  said 
eagerly  : 

*'  ^Yhat  would  you  have  me  do  ?  For  God's  sake, 
Madam,  tell  me,  and  let  me  lay  this  tormenting  devil 
which  continually  pursues  me  !  Speak,  Madam,  what 
do  you  wish  ?" 

*'  Give  us  the  means  of  going  to  our  friends.  Our 
home  is  gone,  our  means  are  gone  ;  we  have  nothing 
left  but — but    our  graves   in  this   sad  spot.     Let  us 

go-" 

"  When  and  where  you  will,  only  away  from  here," 
he  said. 

"  To-morrow  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  To-day  ;  now,  if  you  please.  I  have  an  ambulance, 
and  can  send  you  under  flag  of  truce.  The  Eebels  are 
falling  back  towards  Fredericksburg,  and  each  day  in- 
creases the  distance  between  us.  They  are  now  twenty 
miles  off;  so  do  not  delay  longer  than  you  can  help." 

It  reminded  Jean  of  the  King  of  Egypt  thrusting 
out  the  children  of  Israel  when  he  found  that  their 
presence  brought  down  God's  curse  upon  him,  and  she 
silently  thanked  Him  for  this  evidence  of  His  care 
over  them. 

"We  have  nothing  to  prevent  our  going  at  once,'' 
she  said.  "  Unhappily,  we  are  not  much  cumbered 
with  baggage." 

"  You  mean  to  reproach  me,  I  suppose,"  he  said, 
wincing  under  her  words,  but  speaking  doggedly. 

"  No ;  I  simply  state  a  fact.  We  have  only  ourselves 
to  move." 

"  How  many  go  ?  '^  asked  Captain  Brown. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  307 

*' Myself,  two  daughters,  and  little  son  make  up  the 
party,"  was  the  answer. 

"En'  me  en  Bob,  Misstis,"  said  Mammy,  speaking 
for  the  first  time. 

"  We  can't  let  any  negroes  go  through  the  lines," 
said  Captain  Brown. 

"  You  is  de  fust  of  you  color  ever  called  me  sich," 
said  Mammy,  indignantly.  "  Dey  ain't  but  one  nigger, 
en'  you  knows  him  better  den  I  dus,  judgin'  from  you 
"wurks." 

"  Hush,  Mammy,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  fearing  that 
her  cudgels  in  defence  of  her  racQ  might  defeat  their 
purpose. 

"At  your  biddin',  Misstis,"  said  the  old  woman  ;  "  but 
sure  as  you  leaves  me  wid  dese  debbels  I'll  die  or  kill 
sum  of  'em," 

"Oh,  let  her  go  by. all  means,"  said  the  man;  "we 
are  best  rid  of  such  as  she.  How  soon  can  you  be 
ready?" 

*'  In  half  an  hour,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  as  she  turned 
back  towards  the  house. 

"And,  Madam,"  said  the  man,  hesitating  and  embar- 
rassed, "  if  you  should  have  the  opportunity,  say  to  your 
daughter,  from  me  —  say  to  your  daughter,  Madam,  that 
I  —  yes  —  that  I  am  a  devil  incarnate.  The  old  woman 
is  right." 

^'I  shall  tell  her,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  her  gentle 
nature  touched  by  his  reckless  words,  "  that  you  have 
done  everj^thing  you  could  to  atone  for  the  past  in 
facilitating  this  most  important  move." 

In  half  an  hour's  time  they  were  seated  in  a  com- 
fortable ambulance.  Uncle  Bob  had  decided  to  stay 
and  take  care  of  "  the  things" —  items  always  holding  a 


308  WOMEy,  OR  CHRONICLES 

high  placG  in  the  affections  of  his  race  ;  and  Annt 
Ailsie  and  himself,  the  ou\y  two  left  on  the  plantation, 
waved  an  adieu,  with  tearful  eyes. 

A  cavalry-guard  accompanied  them,  and  the  driver 
informed  the  ladies  that  Captain  Brown  had  furnished 
the  ambulance  with  everything  necessary  for  their 
journey. 

After  they  had  driven  about  ten  miles,  the  guard  dis- 
l^layed  conspicuously  a  white  flag  at  the  head  of  the 
column,  and  a  like  adornment  was  fixed  to  the  roof  of 
the  vehicle,  and  from  that  time  anxious  eyes  perused  the 
distance,  hoping  to  catch  the  first  glimj^se  of  the  gray 
uniforms  of  the  Confederates,  but  they  were  disap- 
pointed. Everywhere  they  read  the  sad  signs  of 
war  in  the  desolation  and  poverty  of  the  country,  but 
more  than  the  allotted  twenty  miles  were  passed  and 
still  there  were  no  Confederates.  At  length  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  party  called  a  halt,  and  a  consultation  seemed 
to  be  carried  on  as  to  what  had  better  be  done.  After 
about  ten  minutes  he  rode  up  to  the  side  of  the  ambu- 
lance and  said,  touching  his  cap  respectfully: 

"Ladies,  our  orders  were  positive  not  to  take  you 
over  twenty  miles  and  to  return  to  camj)  to-night  j  but 
I  felt  so  certain,  from  information  gathered  some  dis- 
tance back,  that  we  should  reach  protection  for  you  at 
this  point,  that  I  ventured  to  extend  the  limit,  but  I 
can  do  so  no  farther." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Sir,  that  you  will  leave  us  in 
the  open  country"  alone?  "  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  alarmed. 

*■'  Oh  no,  Ma'am,  by  no  means  ;  but  I  will  have  to  take 
you  to  the  next  farm-house  and  let  3'ou  get  on  from 
there.     I  cannot  transgress  my  orders  beyond  that.'' 

The  next  farm-house  proved  a  sorry-looking  affair,  a 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  309 

wooden  tenement  scarce  too  large  for  the  comfortable 
accommodation  of  their  own  party.  Several  children 
were  playing  in  the  road,  but  stopped  upon  the  appear- 
ance of  the  cavalcade  and  stood  staring,  their  straight 
sunburnt  yellow  hair  waving  in  the  breeze.  As  soon 
as  they  distinguished  the  blue  uniforms  they  turned 
and  fled,  and  the  travellers  heard  the  frightened  cry  of 
"Yankees!  Yankees!" 

"  Easy  to  tell  their  politics,"  said  the  driver,  laughing. 
"I  think  you  will  find  friends,  ladies." 

From  the  appearance  of  the  house  it  at  first  seemed 
doubtful  whether  they  would  find  anything,  as  every  part 
of  it  was  shut  up  as  tight  as  the  dilapidation  of  the  build- 
ing allowed.  It  was  built  of  wood,  but  here  and  there 
were  gaps  in  the  wall  where  a  board  had  been  torn  off 
to  supply  some  urgent  need;  about  half  of  the  window 
panes  were  out,  and  their  places  variously  supplied  with 
paper,  colored  rags  and  bloated  pillows,  until  it  looked 
not  unlike  a  patchwork  quilt  of  irregular  pattern. 
Everything  presented  the  most  melancholy  picture  of 
poverty,  neglect  and  ruin.  The  fields  were  uncultivated, 
the  fences  gone ;  even  what  had  once  been  an  enclosure 
around  the  house  was  turned  out  to  the  common.  Here 
and  there  the  straggling  remains  of  a  rose-bush  told  of 
better  days,  and  in  what  was  once  a  garden  some  im- 
perturbable garden-herbs  stuck  it  out,  refusing  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  extraordinary  pressure  of  the  times,  and  a 
few  pinks  and  jonquils  of  strong  constitutions  had  man- 
aged to  outlive  the  general  mortality. 

"  Promises  poorly,"  said  the  leader  of  the  party  as  he 
dismounted  and  threw  his  bridle  to  one  of  the  men. 

"Hallo!"  he  called;  but  as  no  response  rewarded 
this  effort,  he  advanced  to  the  door,  and  announced  his 


310  WOMEX,   OR  CUROXICLES 

r 

presence  by  a  vigorous  tattoo  upon  it.  This  bad  to  be 
repeated  several  times  before  it  elicited  any  signs  of 
life;  but  at  last  the  door  "vras  cautiously  opened,  and 
the  frightened  face  of  a  woman  appeared  at  the  aper- 
ture. 

"Well,  my  good  woman,"  said  the  man,  "we  were 
just  about  to  force  an  entrance,  to  see  if  you  were  not 
all  dead." 

"I  most  wish  we  was,"  said  the  woman  sullenly; 
"it's  harder  to  live  then  to  die  these  times." 

"Tut!  tut!  don't  be  so  desponding;  better  times 
ahead  always.  I  want  to  know  if  you  can  give  these 
ladies  shelter  for  the  night;  they  are  going  South,  and 
hoped  to  find  their  friends  before  this." 

"  AVho  is  they  friends  ?  "  asked  the  woman,  looking, 
it  must  be  confessed,  rather  dismayed  at  the  request. 

"The  Johnnie  Eebs,  of  course,"  was  the  answer;  "  arc 
they  about  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  they  is  'bout  here  all  de  time  ;  but  I  ain't 
got  nothin'  for  a  passle  of  women  and  childern  to  eat. 
I  am  a  poor  lone  woman  myself,  en'  me  and  my  chil- 
dern will  starve  pretty  soon,  I  expect."  The  composure 
with  which  this  expectation  was  enunciated  was  a 
melancholy  feature  of  the  times.  "  Starving  pretty 
soon"  was  at  the  door  too  constantly  to  excite  terror. 

"We  have  enough  food  to  last  us  for  the  night," 
said  ]\Irs.  Holcombe  from  the  ambulance,  "  and  for  the 
lodging  you  shall  be  well  paid." 

1^ "  Oh  well,  Madam,  you  is  freely  welcome  to  that," 
said  the  woman  ;  "  but  it's  mighty  poor  doings  I'se  got 
for  you  anyhow." 

This  question  being  settled,  the  work  of  unloading 
was  soon  accomplished,  and  the  little  i:)arty  of  exiles, 


OF  THE  LATE   WAB.  311 

after  taking  leave  of  their  protectors,  entered  the 
house.  They  were  agreeably  surprised  in  the  accommo- 
dations it  afforded,  as  the  furniture  was  passably  good, 
and  they  found  themselves  furnished  with  two  cham- 
bers, containing  all  that  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
existence,  if  no  more. 

The  disappointments  and  exertions  of  the  day 
seemed  quite  to  have  exhausted  Margaret  and  Mrs. 
Holcombe,  and  Mary  easily  persuaded  her  to  lie  down 
and  rest  a  while.  The  anxiety  to  communicate  with  her 
husband  was  too  intense,  however,  to  allow  a  condition 
of  quiescence  for  any  length  of  time,  and  they  deter- 
mined to  adjourn  down-stairs,  to  see  if  some  mode 
of  communication  could  not  be  devised. 

"Well,"  said  their  landlady,  to  whom  they  stated 
their  desire,  "  ef  Bill  Myers  wus  here  he'd  go  for  you 
sartain:  He's  mostly  here  of  days,  and  he  may  be  in 
afore  night  yit." 

*^Our  condition,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  '^  is  so  sad 
just  now,  without  home  or  friends,  until  we  can  reach 
our  husbands,  that  we  will  do  anything  to  accomplish 
that." 

"  I  s'pose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Durst  sympathisingly.  "  What 
is  it  they  calls  you  all  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe. 

''  Shure !  you  people  as  is  druv  from  you  homes  en' 
goes  'bout  the  country  sponging  on  other  people, — 
vagabones,  or  some  sich  name." 

"  Eefugees,"  suggested  Mary.  .  ,^ 

"  Ah,  fugees,  that's  it.  I  knowed  it  was  somethin', 
but  1  sorter  disremembered  the  name." 

"But  I  beg  you  to  understand  we  don't  intend  to 
sponge  on  other  people,'^  said  Mary,  a  little  indig- 
nantly. 


vr- 


312  WOMU:^,  OB  CHRONICLES 

"Oh  no,"  added  Mrs.  Holcombe,  "we  shall  make  a 
home  for  ourselves  somewhere,  and  then  we  hope  to 
have  it  in  our  power  to  return  some  of  Mrs.  Durst's 
kindness  to  us." 

"S'pose  so,"  said  the  woman,  bowing  her  thanks, 
"  Why,  la !  I  do  b'lieve  thar  is  Bill  Myers  comin'  now." 

If  Bill  Myers  was  a  tall,  middle-aged,  long-legged 
contryman,  whose  suit  of  gray  showed  signs  of  hard 
service,  and  whose  boots  had  the  merit  of  matching 
the  rest  of  his  attire,  being  plentifully  spattered  with 
mud  from  the  soles  up  to  the  place  where  the  gray 
pants  found  their  refuge  within  their  recesses  :  this 
probably  was  Bill,  who  now  strode  into  the  room, 
making  a  rough  obeisance  to  the  ladies,  whose  unex- 
pected presence  embarrassed  him  not  a  little. 

"  Can  you  tell  us  anything  of  the Virginia  Cav- 
alry?'' said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  precipitately,  without 
waiting  for  the  formula  of  an  introduction. 

"Yes,  Marm,"  said  the  man,  "I  orter  be  able,  sar- 
tain,  as  that's  my  own  regiment ;  it's  all  round  here." 

"Ob,  is  Captain  Murray's  company  with  it?"  said 
Margaret,  unable  any  longer  to  control  her  anxiety. 

"  Yes,  Marm  ;  the  Capting's  company  camps  to-night 
up  the  creek  about  five  mile  or  so.  I  met  him  a  little 
bit  agone." 

"You  met  him  !  Oh,  Mamma,  so  near!  He  might 
be  here  to-night  if  he  only  knew.  Oh,  could  you  get 
us  a  message  to  him  to-night  ?  He  is  my  husband,  and 
I  must  see  him,"  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Why,  la  !  Marm,  don't  you  take  on  so,"  said  the  man, 
with  rough  kindness  ;  "  I  kin  take  a  message  to  him 
quicker'n  a  kite.  Jist  you  write  your  line,  en'  I  will 
be  off  in  five  minutes." 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB,  313 

It  did  not  take  long  to  write,  being  only  : 

"  Oh,  Eobert,  come  to  me  quickly  ! 

"  Your  own  Margaret." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Margaret,  as  the  sound  of  the  horse's 
hoofs  died  away  in  the  distance,  "  I  am  going  up  to 
my  room  ;  I  cannot  meet  him  here,  I  must  be  alone. 
Send  him  to  me  when  he  comes." 

They  let  her  have  her  own  way,  knowing  that  soli- 
tude is  often  the  best  tonic  the  wounded  heart  can  have. 

It  might  have  been  three-quarters  of  an  hour  after 
that  two  horsemen  dashed  up,  and  throwing  them- 
selves from  their  saddles,  hurried  into  the  house.  They 
proved  to  be  Captain  Murray  and  Captain  Williams. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Jean,"  said  the  former  as  he  em- 
braced her,  *'  where  are  Margaret  and  the  boy  ?  and 
what  does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"Margaret  is  waiting  for  you  up-stairs.  We  are 
homeless,  Eobert.  Eose  Hill  was  burned  on  Wednesday 
last  by  Hunter's  order,  and  we  were  sent  through  the 
lines  under  flag  of  truce." 

*'Eose  Hill  burned  !  "  exclaimed  both  gentlemen. 

*'  Yes,  wi'th  everything  it  contained,"  said  Mrs.  Hol- 
combe,  while  Mary  and  herself  gave  way  anew  to  their 
grief  as  the  recollection  of  the  scenes  of  the  past  few 
days  came  back  with  renewed  strength  to  their  mem- 
ories. 

''Go  to  Margaret,  dear,"  continued  Mrs.  Holcombe, 
fearing  his  next  question  ]  "  she  needs  you,  and  waits 
for  you." 

Something  in  her  manner  struck  him  with  terror, 
and  he  tarned  to  her,  his  face  all  aflame  with  the  rush 
of  fears  which  overwhelmed  him. 
15 


314  WOMEy,  OR  CHRONICLES 

"  Jean,  is  there  more  ?  —  oh,  tell  rae  !  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  darling  brother,  go  to  your  wife," 
and  she  eagerly  pointed  him  the  way  to  her  room. 

The  strong  man  tottered  and  wavered  in  his  gait  as 
he  walked  from  the  room.  He  knew  that  some  shock 
was  in  store  for  him,  but  feebly  guessed  what  it  was, 
until  he  opened  the  door  indicated,  and  a  noble  figure, 
like  JN'iobe  all  bathed  in  tears,  fled  into  his  arms, 
crying  : 

'•  Oh,  Eobert,  take  me,  hold  me  fast,  for  you  have 
none  but  me  to  hold  !  " 

We  will  drop  the  curtain  over  a  scene  too  sacred 
even  for  our  friendly  gaze,  and  return  to  the  parlor, 
where  !Mrs.  Holcombe  lay  upon  the  sofa  silently  weep- 
in  fj-  tears  of  sympathy  for  the  wrung  hearts  so  near  at 
hand,  and  Mary  stood  apart,  explaining  to  Mr.  Wil- 
liams the  particulars  of  the  events  so  replete  with 
sorrow  to  the  narrator  ;  nor  was  it  any  dishonor  to  the 
manhood  of  the  brave  soldier  that  his  tears  fell  like 
rain  over  the  piteous  recital,  and  he  longed  for  the 
power  to  comfort  these  mourners. 

This  imiDulse  grew  stronger  each  moment  as  he  stood 
beside  the  beautiful  young  girl,  and  he  resolved  to 
break  a  vow  once  rashly  made.  A  while  after  he  drew 
Mary  out  into  the  moonlight,  and  putting  his  arm 
around  her,  said : 

''  Mary,  I  once  told  you  that  hope  for  your  love  was 
dead  within  me  ;  but  when  I  see  you  standing  thus 
helpless  and  alone  in  your  sorrow,  my  heart  yearns 
over  you  with  a  tenderness  which  no  words  can  ex- 
press. I  do  not  ask  you  to  love  me  with  the  bountiful 
measure  you  bestov^-ed  upon  another  ;  but  such  tender- 
ness and  confidence  as  you  have  to  give,  give  to  me! 


OF  THE  LATE   WAB.  315 

and  let  it  bo  ray  happiness  to  lavish  on  you  the  full  de- 
votion of  my  heart.  With  this  I  will  be  content;  for 
'  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.'  Only  bestow 
npon  rae  yourself  to  love  and  cherish,  and  I  will  ask  no 
more." 
•   Mary  wept  convulsively  as  she  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  How  can  I  ever  repay  your  generosity  and  love, 
Mr.  TVilliams  ?  "  she  said.  "  Oh,  if  you  had  only  spoken 
tome  long  ago,  before  —  before  that  time  you  know  of. 
If  I  had  only  grown  to  womanhood  with  the  knowledge 
of  your  affection,  I  could  never  have  placed  mine  as  I 
did.  But,  forgive  me,  I  cannot  accept  your  generous 
offer.  I  would  not  give  you  less  than  all,  and  that  all 
I  fear  is  dead  within  me." 

"  You  are  too  young,  my  child,  to  talk  in  that  way," 
answered  Mr.  Williams;  "you  have  scarce  yet  reached 
the  period  when  women  sound  the  depths  of  their 
hearts.  A  first  girlish  passion,  if  successful,  too  often 
leads  todisappointment,andifunsuccessful,  it  but  serves 
as  the  developer  of  a  maturer  and  nobler  feeling.  A 
woman  of  twenty-five  would  seldom  marry  her  choice 
at  eighteen.  Do  not  answer  me  unless  you  please,  for 
I  do  not  wish  to  force  your  confidence  ;  but  do  you  still 
love  — do  you  care  for  any  one  more  than  you  do  for 

me?" 

<•  If  you  mean,  do  I  still  love  Mr.  Dallam,"  said 
Marv,  frankly,  "  no,  a  thousand  times  no  !  I  sometimes 
doubt  whether  I  ever  did.  I  loved  an  ideal  dressed  in  the 
attractive  garb  of  his  person,  but  I  never  loved  a  man 
who  for  mere  gain  could  turn  aside  from  principle  and 
right.  I  think  now  of  the  end  of  that  affair  as  an  escape 
for  me." 

f' Since,"  said  Mr.  Williams,  smiling,  "you  are  in  the 


316  TTOJ/^JV;   on  CHRONICLES 

habit  of  idealising  people,  could  you  not  for  the  nonce 
endow  me  with  some  of  these  very  attractive  graces  ? 
You  have  a  poor  foundation,  it  is  true,  but  with  your 
imagination  it  might  be  done." 

"No,  I  prefer  you  just  as  you  arc.  There  can  be  no 
mistake  about  you  ;  you  have  been  in  the  furnace  and 
have  come  out  pure  gold." 

The  flattery  was  so  very  sweet  that  Captain  Williams 
would  have  thanked  her  in  true  lover-like  fashion,  but 
Mary  drew  back. 

''  I  don't  want  you  to  think,  Mr.  Williams/'  she  said, 
''^that  I  am  a  mere  child  who  can  change  my  toy 
without  an  effort." 

'•If  I  did,"  he  said,  "I  should  be  the  last  to  ask  to 
be  that  toy.  I  don't  harbor  any  thought  of  you  which 
does  not  honor  you  and  adorn  you  as  woman  never 
was  adorned  in  my  eyes  before.  You  are  all  I  want 
you  to  be,  and  I  only  ask  as  the  crown  of  my  life  that 
I  may  win  and  wear  you." 

Again  he  would  have  kissed  her  upturned  face,  but 
again  she  put  him  from  her,  saying,  "JSTot  now,  Mr. 
Williams,  not  now.  I  could  not  decide  such  a  matter 
now  when  we  are  all  in  such  trouble.  It  seems  heart- 
less even  to  think  of  my  own  happiness  after  the  events 
of  the  past  few  days;  I  cannot  even  tell  what  I  feel." 

''Well,"  said  he,  joyfully  accepting  the  hope  her 
answer  gave,  "  I  am  a  perfect  Jacob  for  patience.  I 
have  served  seven  years  for  my  Eachel  already,  and 
am  prepared  to  serve  seven  years  more  if  it  cannot 
be  done  in  less  time ;  but  cannot  you  shorten  my  pro- 
bation ?    When  may  I  speak  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  not  for  a  long  time.  I  must  see 
Papa  first,  and  must  forget  a  little  of  the  past  before  I 


OF  TUB  LATB   WAR.  317 

can  even  briug  my  thoughts  into  any  such  channel. 
We  leave  here  to-morrow,  I  expect,  and  it  may  be  a 
long  time  before  we  meet ;  so  I  will  say,  the  next  time 
I  see  you  you  may  ask  me  anything  you  please." 

He  was  not  to  be  rebuffed  this  time,  and  Mary  car- 
ried a  very  blushing  face  back  into  the  parlor,  and 
upon  finding  it  vacated,  ran  off  up-stairs  to  join  her 
mamma,  though  there  were  no  confidences  to-night. 

She  took  care  not  to  give  Mr.  Williams  an  oppor- 
tunity the  next  morning  to  renew  the  conversation^ 
keeping  close  to  the  side  of  her  mother,  though  every 
now  and  then  she  would  give  him  a  shy  smile  which 
was  wonderfully  encouraging,  and  sent  him  back  to  his 
regiment  with  a  hope  at  his  heart  and  a  light  in  his 
eye  very  new  to  him. 


318  WOMEJV,  Oil  CHRONICLES 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 

"One  to  destroy  is  murder  by  the  law, 

And  gibbets  keep  the  lifted  hand  in  awe; 
To  murder  thousands  takes  a  specious  name, 
War's  glorious  art,  and  gives  immortal  fame." 

YouxG. 

Scarce  had  Captain  Murray  time  to  consign  his 
family  to  a  place  of  temporary  safety,  before  he  was 
forced  to  hurry  to  Fredericksburg,  where  he  found  a 
battle  already  progressing;  Hooker  having  at  last 
broken  the  spell  which  had  for  so  long  held  the  two 
hostile  forces  facing  each  other,  with  the  Eappahan- 
nock  moving  its  muddy  length  between,  and  cross- 
ing the  river  had  precipitated  the  terrible  battles  of 
the  Wilderness  and  Chancellorsville.  Of  the  loss  which 
cast  an  afflicted  people  upon  their  knees  with  tears  and 
cries  for  mercy  we  will  speak  hereafter  in  its  proj)er 
place  J  it  has  not  to  do  with  the  present  of  our  story. 

When  Hooker,  after  the  fearful  disaster  to  his  arms, 
succeeded  in  recrossing  the  river  with  his  shattered 
forces,  he  left  behind  him  seventeen  thousand  men  in 
killed,  wounded  and  prisoners,  and  these  added  to  the 
many  thousand  Confederates  who  fell  in  the  same 
•terrific  struggle,  filled  the  air  with  the  wail,  the  groan, 
the  shriek  of  tortured  humanity,  and  citizen  and  soldier 
labored  together  night  and  day  for  the  mitigation  of 
the  agony  of  friend  and  foe  alike. 

It  was  the  day  after  the  closing  scenes  of  this  battle 
that  Captain  Murray,  his  heart  full  of  his  own  sorrows, 
and  from  the  sympathy  thus  engendered  desiring  to 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  319 

relieve  those  of  others,  rode  towards  the  battle-field, 
supplied  with  such  simple  restoratives  as  he  could  com- 
mand.    Inured  as  he  was  to  scenes  of  suffering,  his  heart 
turned  sick  at  the  sights  which  met  him  at  every  turn. 
The   sky  was  black  with  clouds  portending  a  storm, 
and  the  thunder  muttered  and  grumbled  above  their 
heads,  as  if  expressing  the  anger  of  Nature  at  the  out- 
rage done  to  her  by  such  scenes ;  while  the  groans  and 
crfes   of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  human  beings 
mingled  with  it  in  fearful  discord,  and  the  dead  in  the 
mid^t  lay  In  quiet,  seemingly  more  intense  from  the 
confusion  and  agony   around   them.    Here  and  there 
were  parties  of  men  and  women  bending  above  the  suf- 
ferers, and  by  kind  words  and  tangible  help  alleviating 
their  tortures.     He  paused  at  one  spot  where  a  woman 
knelt  beside  a  man  in  his  last  agony,  and  the  tear 
came  into  his  eye  as  he  heard  her  receiving  from  the 
failing  voice  his  last  messages  of  love  for  friends;  he 
knew  from  his  own  bitterness  what  their  sorrow  would 
be  when  the  news  reached  them.     Not  far  off  was  a 
surgeon  amputating  a  limb,  while  his  assistant  held  the 
sponge  to  the  mouth  of  the  patient.     Still  a  little  fur- 
ther and  cries  for  "Water,  water!"  or  a  "  God   have 
mercy !  "  or  an   imprecation  terrible  to  hear,  mingled 
together  upon  his  ear,  and  he  found  plenty  to  engage 
his  attention.     From  the  midst  of  this  babel  of  sound, 
one  voice  with  a  note  of  familiarity  in  it,  uttering  blas- 
phemies too  horrible  for  even  a  hint  of  them  to   stain 
these  pages,  called  upon  him  for  help.     Going  towards 
him,  he  found  a  Federal  officer  terribly  mutilated. 

''My  poor  fellow,"  he  said,  kneeling  beside  him, 
"don't  curse  God  at  such  an  hour  as  this;  rather  pray 
for  His  mercy  upon  your  soul." 


320  WOME^\  OB  CHROSICLES 

"Ha  "  said  the  maD,  bis  frightened  eyes  staring  up 
at  him  from  the  gory  mask  which  disfigured  his  face, 
*'  I  know  you  !  I  know  you  I  you  have  come  to  murder 
me!'' 

Is  it  a  wonder  that  as  the  strong  man  above  him 
recognised  Pr.  Burton,  and  the  memory  of  the  past 
rushed  over  him,  bringing  up  his  perfidy,  his  attempt 
on  his  life,  his  persecution  of  his  helpless  wife,  his  ruth- 
less act  whereby  an  unprotected  family  were  left 
homeless,  and  the  death  of  his  son, —  I  say,  is  it  any 
wonder  that  human  nature  overpov/ered  the  defences 
and  stays  which  the  grace  of  God  had  set  up  in  his 
heart  for  its  control,  and  but  one  passion  possessed  him, 
which  must  wreak  itself  upon  the  object  which  lay 
before  him  ? 

But  although  God  in  His  wisdom  often  permits  His 
children  to  be  assailed  by  fearful  temptation,  He  does  not 
leave  them  alone  to  encounter  it,  and  so  He  stood  there 
unseen ;  and  as  He  had  once  lifted  His  hand  and  bade 
the  sea  and  the  waves  "  be  still,''  so  was  His  control  ready 
to  be  exerted  when  this  whirlwind  of  pa^ssion  should 
overstep  its  limits  ;  and  as  the  grasp  of  the  strong 
man  tightened  upon  his  adversary,  and  he  was 
about  to  fling  him  to  the  ground,  whose  touch  would 
have  made  him  a  mere  quivering  dead  thing,  no  longer 
capable  of  doing  or  receiving  ill,  the  swift-driving  clouds 
overhead  came  together  with  a  crash  of  thunder,  and 
out  of  the  rolling  and  reverberating  sound  a  voice 
seemed  to  form  itself,  saying,  "  Vengeance  is  mine, 
I  will  recompense,  saith  the  Lord,"  and  the  grasp 
upon  the  trembling  figure  loosened.  Only  for  an 
instant,  however;  the  reign  of  passion  was  not  yet 
over,  Eeason  dared  argue  the  matter  with  its  Maker. 


OF  TEE  LATE   WAB.  321 

*''Lifo  for  life,'  it  said.  '  He  who  sheddeth  man's 
blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.'  This  is  my 
warrant  for  taking  the  life  of  this  murderer,  incen- 
diary, and  liar.  His  life  is  lawfully  forfeited,  and  I  am 
his  rightful  executioner,"  and  again  was  the  quivering 
figure  uplifted  to  be  cast  down  a  dead  man. 

"Thou  shalt  do  no  murder,"  muttered  the  thunder. 

"Yes,"  said  Reason,  while  the  action  suspended  it- 
self for  a  moment ;  "  but  it  is  no  murder  to  take  the 
life  of  a  murderer.  He  is  the  enemy  of  mankind,  who 
curses  the  earth  on  which  he  dwells." 

"  But  I  say  unto  you,"  said  the  voice,  as  the  thunder 
rolled  away  into  the  distance,  and  its  accents  fell  upon 
the  ear  with  a  gentleness,  while  the  command  still  re- 
mained — "  but  I  say  unto  you,  ^  Love  your  enemy,  do 
good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  that 
despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you.'  " 

And  again  was  the  blow  suspended,  and  the  fearful 
struggle  in  the  heart  of  the  man  between  reason  and 
grace  went  on.  Vengeance  is  sweet  in  the  performing 
it  turns  to  gall  afterwards  ;  and  so  legibly  was  this  con- 
test written  upon  the  working  features  of  this  man  that 
his  writhing  victim  gazed  upon  his  face  with  wonder  and 
awe.  He  knew  the  knife  to  be  uplifted  above  his  head, 
that  the  point  of  the  sword  was  at  his  heart,  and  he 
read  condemnation  and  reprieve  in  every  change  of  the 
strongly-marked  face  above  him.  At  last,  with  a  burst 
of  passion  from  baffled  humanity,  he  found  himself  un- 
hurt upon  the  ground,  with  these  words  sounding  in 
his  ear : 

"  There,  miserable  wretch  !  take  your  few  hours  of 
life  at  my  hands,  since  vengeance  is  denied  me  ]  but 
may  the  God  who  claims  it  for  Himself  punish  you  as 
15* 


322  WOMB^\  OR  CHRONICLES 

you  deserve,"  and  ho  turned  away.  But  even  this  was 
not  enough.  Agaia  the  voice  in  the  thunder  Bpoke  to 
him  : 

"  If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him  ;  if  he  thirst,  give 
him  drink;  for  in  so  doing  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of  fire 
upon  his  head/'  and  as  if  to  enforce  the  command  by  the 
example  His  own  bounty  afforded,  the  clouds  opened 
themselves,  and  a  grateful,  refreshing  shower  fell,  cool- 
ing the  wounds  and  relieving  the  burning  thirst  of  the 
poor  sufferers  who  lolled  out  their  burning  tongues  to 
catch  the  cooling  drops. 

It  was  enough ;  he  was  but  a  servant  as  those  ele- 
ments were,  and  with  his  proud  heart  bowed  in  hu- 
mility before  the  God  of  his  life,  he  knelt  beside  his 
wounded  enemy,  and  lifting  his  head  gently,  held  a 
canteen  to  his  lips,  while  tears  dropped  from  his  eyes 
upon  his  upturned  face.  Then  came  the  voice,  soft 
and  musical  as  a  harp-strain  : 

"  That  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  which 
is  in  heaven  ;  for  he  maketh  the  sun  to  rise  upon  the 
evil  and  upon  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  upon  the 
just  and  upon  the  unjust."  And  hours  after  did  the 
passing  crowds  mark  that  powerful  figure  upon  his 
knees  beside  the  dying  man,  praying  with  God  for  the 
parting  soul. 

"And  do  you  forgive  me?"  said  the  dying  accents. 

"  Yes,  I  forgive  you  all ;  and  if  man  can  do  so  much, 
oh,  can  you  not  trust  the  divine  love  of  the  Saviour 
who  died  for  you  !  " 

And  catching  a  glimj^se  of  the  God-like  love  from 
the  feeble  light  of  human  charity,  this  poor  benighted 
sinner  surrendered  up  his  life  into  the  hands  of  the 
God  who  gave  it. 


OF  TEE  LATE   WAll  323 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"Ob,  eloquent,  just  and  mightie  Death  I  Whom  none  could  advise 
thou  hast  pers waded  ;  what  none  hath  dared  thou  hast  done,  and  whom 
all  the  world  hath  flattered,  thou  only  hast  cast  out  of  the  v/orld  :  tbou 
hast  drawne  together  all  the  farre  stretched  greatness,  all  the  pride  and 
ambition  of  men,  and  covered  it  all  over  with  these  two  narrow  words, 
Hie  jacet!  " — Sir  Walter  Kaleigh. 

A  SKY  of  triumphant,  glad  brilliancy,  where  the  sun 
dances  on  its  wings  of  fire,  sending  down  to  earth 
beams  of  light  freighted  with  false  promises  of  an 
eternity  without  a  shadow  —  such  was  the  aspect  of 
the  Southern  political  horizon  when  the  news  of  the 
great  victory  at  Chancellorsville  and  the  retreat  of 
Hooker  reached  Richmond.  The  air  was  vocal  with 
shouts  of  triumph,  and  even  the  most  desponding 
gathered  brightness  upon  their  countenances  at  the 
prospect  of  a  speedy  termination  of  the  war. 

Suddenly,  as  in  a  moment,  an  ominous  cloud,  black 
with  disappointed  hope  and  heavy  with  sorrow,  shot 
athwart  the  horizon,  obscuring  the  light  of  the  sun  and 
spreading  itself  like  a  pall  above  the  grief-stricken 
earth.  For  Jackson  had  fallen.  Jackson,  the  Chris- 
tian soldier  and  hero;  Jackson,  the  right  arm  of  Gen- 
eral Lee ;  Jackson,  who  had  hitherto  seemed  to  bear  a 
charmed  life  ;  Jackson,  who  upheld  the  cause  by  prayer, 
who  by  his  OAvn  unswerving  faith  and  courage  inspired 
that  of  the  entire  army — Jackson  had  fallen] 

The  paralysis  which  succeeded  the  shock  this  news 
brought  was  like  the  torpor  which  death  brings  after 
long  watching  beside  a   friend.      There  was  nothing 


324  WOMEJ^,  OR  CHRONICLES 

more  to  be  done ;  everything  seemed  to  stand  still, 
hoiDelessly,  despairingly.  And  then  the  reaction ;  for 
further  news  reached  the  city  that  the  blow  was  sus- 
pended, he  yet  lived,  and  with  his  old  strong,  curt,  con- 
vincing energy  of  determination  expressed  it  as  his 
opinion  that  he  would  not  die.  Men  told  how  he  said 
in  his  own  abrupt  laconic  style,  as  he  lay  there  all  bound 
down  and  helpless  from  his  wounds  like  a  lion  in  chains, 
"  I  do  not  know,  of  course,  but  I  think  I  shall  get  well ; 
but  the  will  of  God  be  done,"  and  a  shower  from  the 
overhanging  cloud  lightened  it  of  its  burden  for  a  short 
space.  But  as  days  went  on  again  it  gathered  black- 
ness, and  as  the  heavy  news  came  down  the  wire 
in  its  brief  conciseness,  telling  its  tale  without  cir- 
cumlocution and  without  softening — "J^a  better/' — 
"A  bad  night," — "Pneumonia  symptoms," — '^Sink- 
ing,"—  the  nation  fell  on  its  knees  and  prayed.  JMen 
who  had  never  prayed  for  themselves  prayed  for  this 
one  life ;  every  house  was  a  Bethel,  and  on  Sunday  the 
churches  were  crowded  with  men  and  women  met  to 
plead  the  promise  that  when  "  two  or  three  shall  ask 
anything,  it  shall  be  done."  But  all  in  vain  ;  the  blow 
fell  and  the  nation  mourned,  and  like  Eachel  weeping 
for  her  children,  would  not  be  comforted. 

"When  it  was  known  that  he  was  actually  dead,  each 
community  vied  with  the  other  to  show  him  honor. 
Eichmond  claimed  for  her  soil  the  privilege  of  shelter- 
in  «■  his  dust.  But  no  ;  he  had  requested  that  the  Yalley 
he  so  loved,  where  he  had  passed  so  many  happy  days  in 
peace,  and  which  had  witnessed  so  much  of  his  triumph 
in  war,  where  the  people  loved  him  as  a  father  and 
gloried  in  him  as  a  leader  —  that  the  old  Yalley  of  Yir- 
ginia  might  receive  him  into  her  bosom,  and  with  her 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAR.  325 

blue  skv  overhead  and  her  everlastinc:  hills  as  the  sen- 
tinels  about  his  couch,  he  might  rest  until  "  time  should 
be  no  lonji-er." 

His  remains  were,  however,  brought  to  Eichmond, 
in  order  that  the  sorrows  of  the  people  might  have  a 
vent  in  tears  over  all  that  remained  of  their  idol. 

Those  who  were  the  privileged  participants  in  the 
scenes  of  the  one  day  he  lay  in  state  there,  at  the  Gov- 
ernor's mansion,  will  never  forget  it.  Old  men  and 
young  men,  old  women  and  children,  joined  in  the  sad 
procession  which  thronged  the  avenues,  waiting  the 
moment  when  they  might  take  a  last  look  at  his 
honored  corj)se. 

The  doors  were  closed  until  eleven  o'clock,  and  the 
hours  previous  were  held  sacred  to  his  immediate 
friends.  But  it  was  hard  to  keep  out  the  crowd ;  each 
had  some  plea  to  offer  why  he  should  be  an  exception. 

"Only  wait,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  door  to  a  ^Door  woman  who  pled  for 
admittance,  "until  the  hour  appointed;  his  friends  are 
in  the  room  now." 

"Friends!  "  said  the  woman  through  her  sobs,  "he 
was  my  friend  too." 

"  Ah  indeed !  "  was  the  sympathetic  answer ;  "  a 
personal  friend  then." 

"I  never  saw  him,"  said  the  woman,  "but  he  was 
not  less  my  friend ;  my  two  sons  fell  under  his  com- 
mand, and  they  loved  him.  He  belongs  to  the  people, 
and  I  am  one  of  them." 

At  last  the  doors  were  opened  and  the  crowd  passed 
in  two  and  two  through  the  wide  hall  into  the  lofty 
rooms,  pausing  for  a  moment  beside  a  black  coffin 
draped  with  the  flags  under  which  he  had  so  often 


326  WOMEy,  on  CHRONICLES 

fought,  and  covered  with  the  fairest  flowers  wrought 
into  every  device  which  the  taste  and  love  of  the 
people  could  frame.  They  saw,  looking  up  through 
all  of  these  testimonials  of  the  love  and  honor  of  a 
people,  a  calm  white  face,  where  death  had  sharpened 
out  and  cut  more  clearly  its  more  strikinc^  characteris- 
tics,  the  iron  will  deepened  in  the  furrow  Vv'hich  dented 
his  brow,  and  the  firmness  of  the  thin  compressed  lips. 
There  he  lay,  a  mere  shell,  while  the  spirit  which  had 
so  lately  animated  it  was  yonder! 

Many  sincere  tears  fell  from  eyes  which  saw  him  now 
for  the  first  time ;  but  they  lacked  the  bitterness  of 
those  which  Mrs.  Mason  and  Ellen  Eandolph  dropped 
upon  the  dead  face  as  they  recalled  him  in  so  many  of 
the  stirring  scenes  of  their  lives,  and  felt  that  in  addi- 
tion to  the  loss  for  their  country  they  must  mourn  the 
departure  of  a  valued  friend.  As  they  left  the  house 
they  saw  a  crowd  of  people  clustering  about  an  old 
neo-ro  woman  who  bore  in  her  arms  an  infant  of  about 
six  months  old.  Their  tears  fell  afresh  upon  the  inno- 
cent little  face  as  they  recognised  his  child,  from  the 
strange  and  striking  likeness  stamped  npon  it  to  the 
dead  face  which  had  just  looked  up  to  them  from  the 
cofiin. 

It  had  been  baptised  the  day  before  the  battle  of 
Chanccllorsville,  so  that  one  of  the  latest  acts  of  his 
life  was  the  consecration  to  God  of  this  his  only  child. 


OB   TllE  LATE   WAn.  327 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

'  When  I  consider  life,  'tis  all  a  cheat  ; 
Yet  fooled  with  hope,  men  favor  the  deceit, 
Trust  OD,  and  think  to-morrow  will  repay  : 
To-morrow's  falser  than  the  former  day, 
Lies  worse,  and  while  it  savs  we  shall  be  blest 
With  some  new  joys,  cuts  otf  what  we  possest." 


Dryden. 


Our  chronicler  again  claims  his  privilecie,  and  by 
means  of  his  seven-league  boots  steps  over  a  space  of 
nearly   two   years,  two   checkered   eventful  years,  in 
which  the  hopes  of  the  young  nation  passed  throuo-h 
many  fluctliations  of  hope  and  fear,  rejoicing  and  sor- 
rowing, which  had  at  last  settled  down  into  a  quiet  en- 
durance looking  to  an  end  a  long  way  off.     I  say  look- 
ing to  an  end  a  long  way  off,  for  the  most  sanguine 
could  see  no  prospect  of  a  speedy  termination  of  the 
war,  though  none  dared  to  doubt  the  final  triumph  of 
Southern  arms.     Or  if  one,  asj)iring  to  a  wisdom  above 
his  fellows,  dared  hint  at  defeat,  he  was  hooted  down  by 
the   whole   community,  dubbed   *' croaker,"   and  even 
"  traitor,"  one  who  by  unseasonable  and  unsubstantial 
fears  demxOralised  the  army  and  sapped  the  strenn-th  of 
the  people.      Society  was   against   him,   and   society 
triumphed.     So  the  voice  of  despondency  in  these  latter 
days  of  the   Confederacy  was   seldom    raised.      Jilen 
Bpoke  cheerfully  from  policy  when  they  could  no  lono-er 
do  so  from  conviction. 

The  society  of  Eichmond  had  never  perhaps  in  its 
best  days  boasted  the  same  elements  of  refinement  and 
cultivation  which  at  present  crowded  its  limits.       The 


328  WOMBy,  OR  CHROyiCLES 

whole  South  had  poured  its  contributions  into  its  lap. 
Kor  was  money  the  '•'  open  sesame  "  to  its  eacred  pre- 
cincts ;  ruin  was  too  universal.  It  comprised  all  of  tho 
beauty,  intelligence,  and  aristocracy  of  the  country.  JSI  o 
class  or  sex  had  escaped  the  besom  of  destruction,  Noble, 
high-born  women  who  had  never  before  served  them- 
selves in  the  commonest  affairs  of  life,  now  cheerfully 
bowed  their  fair  heads  beneath  tho  yoke  of  servitude, 
and  with  graceful  acquiescence  with  the  decrees  of 
fate,  shrank  not  from  the  humblest  duties  whereby  the 
merest  necessaries  of  life  might  be  won,  and  each  felt 
that  the  sacrifices  made  were  in  the  cause  they  loved  ; 
they  emulated  their  noble  mothers  of  the  Revolution, 
and  surpassed  them  in  their  self-denials  and  sufferings. 
In  order  to  assist  these  efforts,  and  at  the  same  time 
increase  the  army  in  the  field,  Government  opened 
its  offices  to  the  ladies,  and  thus  was  enabled  to  reduce 
the  number  of  male  clerks  in  its  different  departments. 
The  Treasury  Department,  the  Xaval,  ^ledical,  Quarter- 
master's and  Commissary  Departments,  all  employed 
large  numbers  of  female  clerks  ;  and  at  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning  the  streets  were  alive  with  neat,  busy- 
Jooking  figures  hurrying  off  to  their  different  places  of 
business.  But  even  in  this  condition  of  affairs  did  the 
Southern  sensitiveness  upon  the  subject  of  feminine 
delicacy  show  itself,  for  these  offices  were  rigidly 
managed  by  rules  which,  while  they  exacted  the  work 
of  men  from  the  fair  clerks,  protected  them  from  the 
least  publicity  or  contact  with  the  common  herd.  The 
offices  were  strictly  private,  presided  over  by  gentle- 
men, and  no  visitors  except  in  extreme  cases  were  al- 
lowed ;  the  superintendents  of  the  work  were  carefully 
chosen,  generally  from   the   class  of  men  whose  age 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  329 

made  them  as  regardful  for  the  privacy  and  safety  of 
these  unfortunate  ladies  as  they  would  have  been  for 
that  of  their  own  wives  and  daughters. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  feature  in  the  society  of 
Kichmond  at  this  time.  There  must  be  a  surface  to 
everything.  As  the  pent-up  liquid  comes  in  contact 
with  the  exhilarating  air  it  must  vent  itself  in  foam 
and  noise,  and  so  the  feelings  of  the  people  were  kept 
so  constantly  under  a  jDressure  that  as  soon  as  the  op- 
portunity presented  itself,  it  would  foam  and  bubble  as 
was  its  nature  to  do.  But  this  foam  and  bubble  gen- 
erally confined  itself  to  the  idler  portion  of  the  com- 
munity, to  those  who  had  never  really  suffered  from 
the  war,  and  failed  to  realise  that  the  blow  might  strike 
home  at  any  moment.  It  was  curious  how  the  neces- 
sary economy  of  the  times  came  in  even  with  this 
element  of  society,  for  supperless  balls  and  tea-less 
parties  were  the  order  of  the  day.  Young  people 
would  meet  together  and  dance  wildly  the  night 
through,  without  any  refreshments  to  support  them  in 
the  exhausting  exercise.  The  soldiers  from  the  field 
contributed  much  to  this  gaiety,  as  into  a  furlough  of 
a  few  hours  a  Confederate  always  managed  to  com- 
press as  much  enjoyment  as  possible. 

It  is  a  strange  and  noticeable  leaf  we  turn  in  the 
study  of  human  nature,  that  constant  familiarity  with 
scenes  of  suffering  renders  the  heart  callous  to  them. 
It  is  so  in  great  epidemics  where  men  and  women 
laugh  and  dance  upon  the  brink  of  their  own  open 
graves ;  and  it  is  always  the  case  in  times  of  war  that 
there  is  a  recklessness  of  mirth  and  enjoyment,  as  if 
the  mind  sought  escape  from  the  present  by  living  in  a 
continual  state  of  excitement,  whose  charm  is  that  it 


330  WO^VEy,   OB   CUROXICLES 

blinds  the  mind-'s  eye  and  hardens  the  heart  to  the 
realities  of  life. 

Thus  the  soldiers  would  without  difficulty  turn  aside 
from  scenes  of  bloodshed  and  violence  to  meet  in  the 
mad  whirl  of  the  dance  those  whose  friends  might 
even  then  be  rendering  up  their  lives  upon  the  battle- 
field. 

As  soon  as  the  rapid  movements  of  the  armies  fol- 
lowing the  bloody  battles  at  and  near  Fredericksburg 
allowed  Captains  3Iurray  and  Holcombe  to  think  of 
their  private  affairs,  they  removed  their  families  to 
Eichmoud,  as  not  only  affording  the  most  efficient  pro- 
tection to  them  in  the  then  unsettled  condition  of  the 
whole  country,  but  as  allowing  Captain  Holcombe,  who 
was  stationed  in  Eichmond,  to  reap  and  bestow  the 
benefit  of  constant  intercourse  with  them,  and  also  as 
affordiuir  a  convenient  rendezvous  for  the  diff'erent 
members  of  the  connection  who  were  in  the  army. 

Accordingly  some  rooms  were  rented  in  a  retired 
part  of  the  city,  and  housekeeping  on  a  very  small 
scale  was  instituted.  A  change  in  their  ai-rangements 
soon  became  necessary,  however,  as  Mrs.  Murray's 
nerves  had  been  so  terribly  shattered  by  the  heart- 
rending occurrences  of  one  dreadful  night  that  it 
wrought  upon  her  health  so  seriously  as  to  excite  the 
utmost  solicitude  among  her  friends,  and  Captain  Mur- 
ray taking  the  alarm,  had  at  once  resigned  his  position 
in  the  army,  and  obtaining  through  the  influence  of 
friends  a  foreign  appointment,  had,  with  his  wife,  run 
the  blockade  and  fixed  his  residence  in  London,  where 
he  had  now  lived  considerably  more  than  a  year. 

The  change  had  its  desired  eff'ect  upon  Margaret,  as 
her  fine  constitution  rallied  promptly  when  removed 


OF  THE  LATE  WAB.  331 

from  the  daily  excitements  and  agitations  of  her  for- 
mer life;  and  her  letters  found  their  way  in  to  her 
friends  every  now  and  then,  bringing  assurances  of 
renewed  health  and  spirits,  and  of  the  longing  to  return 
and  share  the  hardships  of  their  lives. 

As  soon  as  the  way  was  opened,  Ellen  Eandolph 
had  returned  with  her  father  to  Winchester,  where 
they  found  Mrs.  Eandolph  faring  better  than  they  dared 
to  hope ;  the  warm-hearted  community  of  the  town 
having  made  her  its  especial  care,  the  different  mem- 
bers vieing  with  each  other  in  endeavors  to  prevent 
her  from  suffering  from  the  enforced  absence  of  her 
daughter;  the  young  girls  taking  it  by  turns  to  stay 
with  her  and  read  to  her,  and  the  older  ladies,  tempt- 
ing her  from  the  seclusion  of  her  home  to  theirs,  man- 
aged to  keep  her  interested  and  easy  during  the  four 
weeks  which  intervened  between  Ellen's  exit  and 
return. 

Mr.  Eandolph  made  what  disposition  he  could  of  his 
house  and  furniture,  and  returned  with  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  Eichmond,  where  we  find  them  at  the  pres- 
ent period  of  our  story,  not  far  off  on  the  one  side  from 
the  Holcombes,  and  on  the  other  from  Mrs.  Mason  and 
her  daughters.  Ellen  soon  found  it  necessary  to  eke 
out  their  limited  means  by  some  exertions  on  her  part, 
so  she  sought  and  obtained  employment  in  the  Com- 
missary Department ;  and  Mary  Holcombe,  as  soon  as 
she  found  Ellen  at  work,  was  seized  with  the  most 
inordinate  desire  to  put  her  fair  shoulder  to  the  wheel. 
Mr.  Holcombe  resisted  her  entreaties  for  some  time,  as 
he  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  this  his  beautiful  young 
daughter  working  for  her  living ;  but  it  became  equally 
painful  to  see    her    straitened    for  means    which   ho 


332  VfOMEy,   OR  CUROXICLES 

could  not  furnish  her,  and  he  yielded  to  her  wish  ;  and 
as  ho  saw  her  returning  each  day  to  her  home,  so 
bright  and  full  of  tlie  simple  incidents  of  tho  day,  so 
ready  to  lake  her  share  of  tho  household  cares, 
and  to  gi-ace  the  humble  fireside  by  her  mirthful 
sjDirits,  when  he  saw  all  this,  and  compared  her  with 
those  young  girls  who  were  only  satisfied  when  seeking 
their  happiness  in  scenes  of  insatiable  and  reckless 
gaiety,  he  concluded  that  in  times  like  the  then  presen«t, 
the  mind  and  energies  must  have  a  vent,  an(i  if  i,t  was 
found  in  some  suitable  and  regular  emplo^-ment,  it  re- 
strained it  either  from  undue  excitement  or  despond- 
ency. 

His  full  reconciliation  to  the  condition  of  things 
came  on  the  day  when  Mary  received  her  first  pay. 
Her  delight  as  she  childishly  displayed  the  big  roll  of 
notes,  and  spoke  grandiloquently  of  the  "fruits  of  her 
labors,"  and  the  untimely  fall  of  those  fruits  when  she 
returned  from  her  shopping  expedition,  with  presents 
for  each  member  of  the  family  and  none  of  her  own 
many  wants  supplied  ;  but  her  capacity  for  enjoyment 
was  fully  filled,  and  her  father  was  satisfied. 

Old  Mammy  still  clung  to  the  fallen  fortunes  of  tho 
family,  though  through  increasing  feebleness,  so  far  as 
assistance  in  the  household  was  concerned,  her  office 
was  almost  a  sinecure.  Uncle  Bob  having  disposed  of 
"the  things''  satisfactorily  to  Aunt  Ailsie  and  her  hus- 
band, had  joined  his  wife  in  Eichmond.  And  though 
the  support  of  the  two  old  servants  weighed  heavily 
enough  upon  the  depleted  purse  of  their  master,  there 
was  not  one  of  the  family  who  would  not  have  denied 
themselves  to  the  utmost  to  prevent  the  faithful  old 
couple  from  suspecting  the  fact;  and  it  was  touching 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  333 

to  see  them  tiying  to  keep  up  a  remnant  of  the  form 
and  state  of  the  past  under  present  changes;  and  when 
those  changes  became  so  palpable  as  no  longer  to 
admit  of  a  cover,  old  Uncle  Bob  would  seek  an  audience 
in  the  street,  to  whom  he  would  detail  the  past  splen- 
dors of  Eose  Hill. 

In  spite  of  losses  and  crosses,  anxieties  and  poverty, 
the  humble  little  home  in  Biclimond  was  a  happy  one. 
Every  now  and  then,  John,  now  grown  to  manhood, 
boasting  a  beard  and  a  sweetheart,  would  rush  in  on 
them  like  a  refreshing  breeze  on  a  warm  day,  and  then 
off  again  to  see  "the  girls;"  or  old  friends  and  new 
ones  would  hunt  them  oat  in  their  seclusion,  and  go 
away  enraptured  with  the  simx^le  beauty  of  the  fire- 
side graced  by  cheerful  hospitality  and  contentment 
under  altered  fortunes. 

Soon  after  his  last  interview  with  Mary,  Captain 
Williams  had  been  ordered,  with  the  portion  of  the 
command  to  which  he  was  attached,  to  the  South, 
without  having  time  to  claim  the  fulfilment  of  her 
promise  given  on  that  sad  day  in  the  cottage  by  the 
road-side;  but  he  wrote  to  her,  entreating  her  with 
eloquence  such  as  only  true  lovers  can  use,  to  confirm 
her  words  and  give  him  the  consolation  in  his  exile  of 
knowing  that  upon  his  return  he  might  claim  her  as 
all  his  own.  Her  answer  was  perfectly  characteristic 
of  the  child-woman  whose  earliest  essay  of  the  heart 
had  been  rudely  crushed  by  fate,  and  who  out  of  it 
conceived  a  doubt  of  herself  and  her  feelings  which 
led  her  to  fear  to  trust  herself,  judging  of  her  nature 
rather  from  the  constraint  put  upon  it  by  circum- 
stances than  from  its  own  earnest  trustfulness  and 
truthfulness.     I  give  an  extract  from  her  letter : 


334  WOMBy,   OB  CHRONICLES 

"...  Dear  friend,  forgive  me  that  I  fear  to  trust 
myself  under  a  promise  so  sacred  and  binding  as  that 
you  wish  me  to  make.  When  I  met  you  that  sad  day, 
just  after  we  lost  our  home,  your  words  fell  so  com- 
fortingly upon  my  sore  heart  that  I  felt  as  if  it  would 
be  the  greatest  comfort  to  mo  to  have  your  strong 
heart  to  lean  upon  in  all  the  troubles  of  life,  to  have 
the  right  to  claim  your  love  and  sympathy  as  all  my 
own.  But  I  am  such  a  foolish,  susceptible,  fickle  little 
thing,  that  now  that  my  mind  and  heart  have  reacted 
from  the  miserj'  of  that  time,  I  feel  more  independent 
of  the  love  and  tenderness  you  then  offered  me,  more 
disposed  to  be  a  child  a  little  longer,  to  devote  myself 
to  Papa  and  ^Mamma,  who  v»'ithout  vanity  I  think  would 
be  very  lonely  without  me ;  and  then,  dear  Mr.  "Wil- 
liams, my  feeling  for  you  seems  to  sink  into  such  in- 
significance beside  your  great,  noble  love  to  me,  that  I 
feel  almost  inclined  to  say  it  docs  not  exist  at  all, 
though  I  know  that  when  I  compare  you  with  any 
other  man  in  the  world  you  gain  b}'  it.  I  know  that 
I  admire  and  confide  in  you  more  than  in  any  human 
being  except  Papa;  yet  I  am  so  the  creature  of  impulse, 
I  am  so  taken  by  a  mere  outside  show,  that  I  should 
be  in  misery  all  the  time  for  fear  I  should  find  myself 
mistaken,  and  have  to  blast  your  hopes  after  having 
allowed  j^ou  to  build  them  upon  my  fickle  promise. 

*'  I  know,  dear  JMr.  Williams,  that  this  indecision  is 
very  contemptible  and  unworthy  of  me;  but  please 
don't  despise  me  for  it.  Eemembcr,  if  I  am  nearly 
twenty  years  old  I  am  only  a  child  after  all,  and  try 
and  judge  me  as  leniently  as  you  can."     .     .     . 

Mr.  Williams  sat  with  this  letter  in  his  hand  a  long 
time,  reading  it  over  and  over  again.     Mary's  hand- 


OP  TIIE  LATE  WAlt.  335 

^vritinc.  ,vas  pcouliav,  and  its  very  peculiarities  seemed 
to  lum  a  part  of  herself.     He  remembered  so  yell  how 
^vhcn  she  was  a  child  he  had  tried  to  change  the  httle 
cramped  letters  to  free,  clear  characters,  more  in  uni- 
son with  herself,  and  what  laughs  they  had  had  over 
the  failures.     But  now  every  little  irregular  mark  was 
a  part  of  herself,  and  ho  would  not  have  changed  one 
of  them  for  the  world.     He  read  the  letter  first  sadly, 
disappointedly,    but  with   each    repetition   his   brow 
cleared,  and  at  last  a  smile  broke  over  his  face,  and 
^vith  a  boyish  impulse,  showing  the  freshness  of  ro- 
mance in  the  matured  man,  he  put  the  letter  next  his 
heart  laucrhed  and  blushed  as  if  some  one  else  had  wit- 
nessed the°si£;nifieant  action,  then  sat  down  to  answer  it. 
'•  No  danger,  my  dear  child,  of  my  despising 
yo'u  "  I'am  a  fool,  perhaps,  but  I  find  everything  you 
do  at  once  established  as  the  standard  of  right  m  my 
eyes;  and  so  I  even  think  you  are  wise  here      I  wou  d 
not  be  the  owner  of  a  promise  from  you  whicn  could 
for  one  instant  burden  your  dear  heart,  nor,  dearly  as 
I  love  you,  desolate  as  my  future  would  be  w.tnout 
vou  would  I  desire  to  take  you  to  the  heart  where 
You'r  imago  reigns  so  alone  unless  I  felt  that  you  pre- 
ferred mo  to  all  the  world.    I  am  a  very  miser  of  your 
love  and  cannot  lot  any  one  else  have  a  part  of  it, 
thou'-h,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  do  not  dare  aspire  to  the 
bounteous  love  from  you  which  I  delight  to  lavish  upon 
you     It  is  only  after  years  of  tenderness,  when  your 
heart  shall  have  grown  into  mine,  when  as  my  wife 
you  know  what  my  love  is,  that  I  hope  to  see  yours 
o-row  and  develop  to  its  full  stature.     So,  darling,  br.glit 
star  of  my  hope,  don't  think  of   me  as  an  incubus 
upon  your  heart  but  love  me  a  little  as  your  oldest, 
best  friend."     .     .     • 


336  V/OJIEX,  OR  CURONICLEIS 


CHAPTEB   XXXII. 

"The  melancholy  days  are  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year, 
Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods,  and  meadows  brown  and  sear." 

Bryant. 

It  was  a  cold,  bleak  day  in  December,  such  a  day  as 
precedes  a  fall  of  snow,  when  the  gusty,  storm}^  north- 
east wind  seems  to  be  trying  with  ill-tempered  intent 
to  drive  winter  with  all  of  its  harshness  and  rigor  into 
the  very  vitals. 

But  in  vain  did  it  try  its  strength  upon  the  fair  young 
pedestrian  who  so  bravely  defied  it.  Now  for  a  mo- 
ment turning  her  t)ack  to  allow  her  draperies  to  resume 
their  proper  places,  and  now  going  laughingly  forward, 
old  Boreas,  with  all  his  ill-temper,  only  painted  her 
cheek  of  a  deeper  glow,  and  blew  into  rich  confusion 
the  masses  of  golden  hair  wydi  escaped  all  confine- 
ment in  the  struggle.  He  only  so  tossed  about  the 
flowing  skirts  as  to  bring  into  view  the  delicate  little 
foot  with  its  arched  instep,  which  even  a  coarse  leather 
shoe  of  clumsy  proportions  could  not  disfigure. 

At  least  so  thought  a  young  officer  who,  catching 
sight  of  her,  and  laughing  to  himself  at  the  unequal 
contest  between  anything  so  fair  and  fragile  and  the 
old  thuuderer  who  has  ruled  the  elements  so  many 
thousand  years.  Hurrying  after  her,  he  soon  came  up 
with  her,  and  speaking  with  the  familiarity  of  an  old 
acquaintance,  he  said : 

"  Why,  young  lady,  where  is  the  wind  blowing  you  to 
this  morning  ?  " 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAE.  337 

*'  Blowing  mo  nowhere  ;  I  am  having  a  regular  fight 
with  it  to  go  my  own  way,  and  the  victory  was  just  in 
the  balance  when  you  come  up  and  turn  the  scale  in 
ray  favor."  And  she  took  his  offered  arm,  adding  as  she 
did  so ;  *'  You  strong  men  are  right  good  institutions  in 
the  storms  of  life  ;  we  can  get  along  very  well  in  the 
sunshine." 

"  Thank  you.  But  I  am  a  lusury  that  won't  agree 
to  be  kept  for  storms  alone,"  said  her  companion  laugh- 
ing, as  he  glanced  admiringly  at  her  glowing  face.  "I 
was  just  going  up  to  ask  if  you  were  invited  to  the 
sociable  at  the  Bakers'  to-night,  and  if  I  might  have  the 
pleasure  of  going  with  you." 

*'  Yes  indeed,  I  am  going ;  it  is  to  be  a  real  peace  en- 
tertainment—  white  sugar  for  the  tea.  I  haven't  seen 
such  a  thing  for  six  months,"  said  Mary. 

"  Well  now  for  the  second  part  of  our  business.  Are 
you  going  to  allow  your  humble  servant  to  act  as  your 
escort  ?  "  said  the  young  man. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Inskeep,  I  shall  have  to  take  that  matter 
into  consideration,"  said  Mary,  shaking  her  head  doubt- 
fully. ''  Upon  certain  agreements  between  us  two,  per- 
haps I  may.  In  the  first  place,  you  are  not  to  think  be- 
cause I  let  you  take  care  of  me  there  and  back  that  I  am 
to  talk  to  you  all  the  time  ;  and  next,  you  are  to  help  me 
to  decline  singing  the  entire  evening ;  and  lastly,  you 
are  to  sing  with  me  when  I  want  j^ou  to,  and  without 
me  whenever  you  are  asked." 

*'  You  young  tyrant,  you ! "  said  the  young  man,  laugh- 
ing ;  '*  you  lay  down  your  laws  with  an  arbitrary  ex- 
actness I  nevnr  saw  excelled." 

''Well,  just  say  whether  or  not  I  may  accei:)t  you; 
^'ou  know  the  terms,"  said  the  young  lady. 
16 


338  WOJfEJS-,   OR  CHRONICLES 

"  Only  withdraw  the  last  ;  don't  make  mc  sing  when- 
ever I  am  asked  and  I  accept,"  was  the  answer. 

"You  seem  to  take  it  for  granted,"  said  she  banter- 
ingly,  *'  that  you  will  he  wildly  sought  after  as  a  musi- 
cian, when  perhaps  after  all  no  one  will  want  to  hear 
you.     No,  I  can't  change  my  terms." 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  I  must  accept.  I  certainly 
am  not  going  to  give  up  the  privilege  of  taking  you 
there,"  said  Mr.  Inskeep.  ' 

*'  Great  privilege,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mary,  with  an 
immense  show  of  contempt  for  the  weakness  of  man- 
kind. ^-How  does  your  likeness  of  General  Lee  pro- 
gress ?" 

"Pshaw!  I'm  disgusted  with  it.  I  made  him  as 
red  as  a  peony,  looking  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  had 
suddenly  fallen  into  dissipated  habits.  And  in  attempt- 
ing to  alter  it  I  have  utterl}-  ruined  the  whole  thing, 
so  I  cut  a  slit  in  my  canvas  and  threw  it  away." 

"  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  3'ourself,  Mr.  Inskeep  ? 
You  always  do  that.  This  is  at  least  the  third  promis- 
ing picture  I  have  known  you  begin  and  end  in  the 
same  way." 

••'  "Well,  I  know  it.  The  fact  is  I  want  encouragement 
and  sympathy  ;  I  want  a  wife  to  give  it." 

Mary  turned  away  suddenly,  as  if  this  was  an  old 
channel  dug  long  ago  and  travelled  frequently,  and 
which  she  wanted  to  avoid. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  late,"  she  said ;  "Major  Brewster 
can't  bear  us  to  be  after  nine.     Let's  hurry  on." 

"  If  I  had  some  one  to  sympathise  with  me  and  ap- 
preciate my  efforts,"  said  her  companion,  continuing 
the  conversation  with  dogged  determination,  "I  might 
meet  with  a  success  worth  something  ;  but  I  go  on  by 


OF  TEE  LATE   WAB.  339 

myself  and  get  discouraged  and  disgusted,  and  undo 
the  work  of  months  in  an  hour." 

"  You  talk  as  weakly  as  a  woman,"  said  Mary  im- 
patiently. "  A  man  ought  to  be  above  such  small  aux- 
inaries  as  sympathy  and  encouragement.  A  man 
ought  to  be  able  to  stand  alone." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  stand  alone.     I  want  — " 

What  he  wanted  Mary  did  not  seem  very  anxious  to 
hear,  as  she  suddenly  abandoned  the  support  of  his 
arm  and  darted  forward  to  meet  Ellen  Eandolph,  who 
was  not  able  to  account  for  her  enthusiastic  reception. 

A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  the  trio  to  the  door  of 
the  establishment  on  Main  Street  sacred  to  the  use  of 
the  female  clerks. 

'^  What  time  will  you  ^o  to-night?  "  said  Mr.  Inskeep, 
as  they  parted. 

*' About  eight  o'clock,  I  expect,  if  I  go  at  all," 
answered  Mary,  indifferently. 

"If  you  go  at  all!  "  said  he,  surprised. 

"  Yes,  I  may  change  my  mind,  but  you  can  come  and 
see,"  said  the  arbitrary  young  beauty  as  she  followed 
Ellen  into  the  house. 

Mary's  fears  of  being  late  were  not  well  founded,  as 
upon  their  entrance  at  the  door  of  the  office  they  found 
a  number  of  ladies  all  clustered  together  in  different 
parties  about  the  long  room,  or  sitting  either  at  or  on 
the  writing  tables  which  occupied  the  space  around 
the  wall,  all  laughing  and  talking  merrily.  A  bright- 
eyed  little  woman,  neither  very  young  nor  yet  middle- 
aged,  came  eagerly  to  meet  them  as  they  made  their 
appearance,  accompanied  by  a  young  girl  with  light 
flaxen  hair  curling  in  her  neck,  and  soft  blue  eyes 
rather  sad  in  expression. 


340  WOM£!^\   OR  CHROmCLES 

"Ah,  girls,  here  you  are  at  last!"  said  the  first- 
named  lady.  "I  have  just  been  telling  this  child  that 
she  must  not  sing  those  melancholy  ditties  over  her 
work,  it  is  bad  for  her  and  for  us  ;  it  has  been, '  Who 
will  care  for  mother  now  ?  '  for  three  days,  and  I  have 
just  promised  her  if  she  will  give  us  *  Dixie,'  in  her  sofl., 
low  voice,  I  will  not  only  care  for  *  ^lother,'  but  the 
whole  family." 

The  young  girl  laughed,  not  sensitively  either,  as  the 
pleasant  face  carried  no  ill-feeling  with  the  criticism, 
and  a  strong,  kindly  arm  was  about  her  waist,  and  she 
knew  it  was  only  intended  as  a  little  bantering  out  of 
her  disposition  to  melancholy. 

"Yery  well,"  she  said  softly,  "I'll  try  Dixie  to-day, 
on  your  account  solely,  I  did  not  know  any  one  heard 
me  at  all;  if  I  was  even  conscious  of  singing." 

It  is  a  curious  sight,  that  Commissary  Examining 
Department,  a  real  business-looking  room,  lined  with 
tables  which  are  covered  with  formidable  piles  of  doc- 
uments ready  for  examination  or  in  j)rocess  of  exami- 
nation, ink-stands,  ink-sponges,  pens,  pencils,  paper- 
knives,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  business,  and  those 
unbusiness-looking  clerks,  with  hair  in  curl-papers,  and 
little  coquettish  bows  of  ribbon  adornments  about  in 
spots,  and  white  ruffled  aprons.  There  are  one,  two, 
three,  perhaps  more,  older  ladies,  with  kind  faces,  who 
seem  to  take  a  motherly  supervision  over  the  young 
ones.  Mary  Holcombe  calls  them  the  "  mothers  of  the 
maids."  There  is  a  good  deal  of  gossip  going  on,  as  will 
be  the  case  when  either  men  or  women  are  gathered 
together,  for  I  deny  that  it  is  confined  to  the  one  sex  ; 
a  party  of  gentlemen  enjoy  a  little  of  the  chit-chat  of 
society  with  as  much  zest  as  do  ladies.     But  there  is 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  341 

one  subject  on  the  tapis  -where  I  must  admit  women 
have  the  monopoly,  the  prolific  subject  of  dress  ! 

"Oh,  girls,"  says  one  bright-eyed  girl,  "have  you 
seen  the  calicoes  at  Levy's  —  beautiful  calicoes  at  only 
thirty  dollars  a  yard  !  '' 

"And  I  gave  fifty  for  mine  !  "  exclaims  another. 

"  Yes,"  says  another,  "  and  by  the  time  we  get  to  the 
store  these  will  be  fifty  too.  I  wish  there  was  some 
way  to  keep  prices  down.  I  wonder  how  a  brick  on  the 
merchant's  head  would  answer." 

"We'll  let  you  try  it,"  laughed  Mary  Holcombe. 

"  And,  my  dear,"  said  the  first  speaker,  "  Madame 
Virgine  has  received  a  fashion-book  through  the  lines. 
You  never  saw  such  frights  as  the  new  bonnets  are  — 
actually  without  crowns  in  them  !  " 

"  :N"o  !  "  "  Pshaw !  "  "  Impossible  !  "  from  various 
sources. 

"  Actually,  yes,  without  crowns,  and  little  bits  of 
things  like  head-dresses." 

"I  think  our  big  ones  are  a  great  deal- prettier. 
And,"  said  one  patriotic  young  lady,  smoothing  down 
her  homespun  dress,  "we  don't  care  to  adopt  Yankee 
fashions ;  the  Southern  Confederacy  can  set  her  own 
fashions." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  a  tall  girl  with  a 
magnificent  figure;  "  I  would  like  to  have  the  fashions, 
I  confess;  it's  horrible  to  have  to  dress  so  outlandishly 
as  we  do.     I  should  be  ashamed  to  be  taken  prisoner." 

There  was  a  general  outcry  at  this. 

"The  idea!"  "Ashamed  of  the  Yankees!"  "I  would 
like  them  to  see  that  we  wei'e  perfectly  independent 
of  them."  And  one  girl  expressed  it  as  her  wish  that 
the  South  hereafter  might  have  her  own  manufactories 


342  WOMEI^,   OB   CHRONICLES 

and  refuse  to  trade  with  the  I^orth  at  all.  ''Let  us  be 
independent  of  them  m  every  respect,"  said  she  with 
emphasis. 

*'  Nine  o'clock,  ladies,"  said  iMajor  Brewster,  making 
his  ai^pearance  at  the  door,  and  instantly  there  was  a 
hurrying  to  seats  and  a  getting-out  of  papers  for  about 
five  minutes,  and  then  the  room  was  so  quiet  you  could 
have  heard  a  pin  drop  ;  the  gossipping  ladies  were  at 
once  transformed  into  diligent  clerks.  Soon  the  sound  of 
tapping  on  the  tables  broke  the  silence;  it  was  a  woman 
calculating  her  accounts  in  true  womanlike  way,  count- 
ing on  her  fingers. 

"  How  much  is  nine  times  seven  ?"  whispered  Ellen's 
next-door  neighbor. 

''  Sixty-three,''  answered  Ellen  in  the  same  tone. 

''  Ah,  thank  you,"  said  her  companion,  a  middle-aged 
lady.  "  You  see  the  advantage  of  being  young.  I  have 
had  too  much  time  in  which  to  forget  my  multiplica- 
tion-table, but  you  at  my  right  hand  are  almost  as 
good  as  personal  knowledge." 

"  Mr.  Carlton,"  said  Mary  Holcombe,  stopping  a 
gentleman  who  was  hurrying  past,  *'what  was  the 
proper  issue  of  bacon  last  May?  I  don't  think  my  man 
issues  right,  and  I  find  a  mistake  of  three  hundred  dol- 
lars in  his  account  current." 

''I  wonder  if  it  isn't  your  mistake,  Miss  Holcombe?" 
said  the  gentleman,  seating  himself  beside  her  and 
smiling  at  the  fair  young  face  puzzling  itself  over  is- 
sues and  receipts  and  accounts  current. 

''No  indeed,"  said  Mary  laughing,  *'he  is  as  dis- 
honest as  he  can  be ;  he  receipts  for  one  thousand 
pounds  of  bacon  and  only  issues  seven  hundred  that  I 
can  find.  Sec,  I  have  called  his  attention  to  it,"  and 
she  handed  her  brief  to  him  for  inspection. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  343 

Ho  read:  —  "IIow  ia  it  you  receive  one  tliousand 
pounds  of  bacon  and  only  issue  seven  hundred  ?  Your 
account  current  is  all  vs^rong.  Explain  how  it  is  that 
in  January  you  receipt  for  three  thousand  dollars,  and 
up  to  the  close  of  these  papers  you  only  disburse  two 
thousand  and  seven  hundred." 

Mr.  Carlton  laughed  as  he  said  : 

*'  ^Chat's  riixht,  call  him  to  account.  You  ladies  are 
the  best  clerks  in  the  world  for  scenting  out  a  fraud ; 
just  put  one  of  you  on  the  track  of  a  dishonest  man 
and  you  will  work  yourselves  to  death.  You  would, 
make  first-rate  detectives." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Mary,  "the  honest  Commissaries  are 
60  very  stupid.  I  get  so  tired  of  the  long  lines  of 
figures.  It  is  so  refreshing  to  find  a  good  dishonest 
man;  he  puts  a  little  variety  into  our  lives.  I  feel  so 
important  when  I  am  ealling  him  to  account  for  his 
cheats," 

The  day  wore  on  in  diligent  work,  and  at  three 
o'clock  Major  Brewster  again  made  his  appearance, 

'-'-  Ladies,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  that  none  of  you  have 
forgotten  that  Christmas  is  approaching,  though  I  sup- 
pose none  of  you  counted  on  your  holiday  as  beginning 
so  long  beforehand;  but  the  Commissary-General,  in 
consideration  of  the  fact  that  you  are;  many  of  you, 
heads  of  families,  and  have  some  preparations  to  make 
for  that  time,  has  ordered  that  your  month's  salary 
shall  be  issued  to-day,  and  we  will  not  expect  you  here 
again  for  two  weeks."  There  was  a  general  clapping 
of  hands  and  little  jubilant  expressions  of  delight 
through  the  room,  which  interrupted  the  address  for 
a  few  minutes.  Seeing  there  was  still  something 
more  to  come,  however,  silence  was  at  last  restored, 


344  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

and  the  Major  went  on:  *' Being  desirous  of  giving  a 
Christmas  treat  to  my  faithful  clerks,  I  want  you  all 
to  return  after  Christmas,  with  a  cup  and  saucer  and 
spoon,  and  1  will  have  a  large  boiler  of  real  coffee  for 
your  entertainment." 

This  was  a  delightful  surprise,  and  the  Major  was 
not  left  in  any  doubt  of  the  fact.  There  was  then  a 
general  confusion  in  the  room,  putting  up  papers  and 
getting  ready  for  the  holiday,  after  which  the  whole 
j)arty  adjourned  to  the  paymaster's  department  and  re- 
ceived their  piles  of  new  crisp  notes  which  meant  so 
very  little. 

As  Ellen  and  Mary  walked  home  together,  Ellen  was 
surprised  to  find  her  cousin  in  a  thoughtful  mood. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Mary  ?  "  she  asked. 

**  Old  times  and  new,  I  believe,  Xell,"  was  the  answer. 

*'A  dangerous  employment.  "VYe  had  better  live  in 
the  present  until  the  war  is  over  ;  it  don't  do  to  look 
forward  or  backward,"  said  Ellen. 

"  I  know  that  very  well,  but  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing of  our  old  Christmas  times  at  Eose  Hill.  Do  you 
remember  the  one  just  after  Mamma  came  to  us  first  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  do,"  said  Ellen.  "I  wonder  if  we  will 
ever  live  over  the  past  ?  " 

"Never!"  said  Mary;  "no  time  could  be  like  past 
times  without  dear  old  Eose  Hill.  But  I  was  thinking 
of  the  children,  Eddy  and  Cousin  Cynthia's  children; 
it  seems  so  dreadful  for  them  never  to  know  what  the 
happiness  of  the  past  was.  I  don't  believe  they,  any 
of  them,  know  the  taste  of  candy,  or  have  any  idea  of 
toys.  Oh,  if  we  could  just  got  up  a  Christmas-tree  for 
them  !  " 

"Poor  little  things!"  said  Ellen,  "it  would  make 
them  happy." 


'^  OF  TBE  LATE  WAR  345 

"  Suppose  wo  all  put  our  heads  and  funds  together 
and  get  up  something  like  a  Christmas  dinner  and  a 
Christmas-tree,"  suggested  Mary  with  a  little  hesita- 
tion, as  if  she  feared  the  extravagance  of  the  joroposi- 
tion  would  be  met  with  disapprobation. 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  very  delightful !  wouldn't  it  ?"  said 
Ellen,  '•  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  our  lives." 

''  Only  think  of  the  pleasure  of  a  real  Christmas 
party,"  said  Mary,  gathering  enthusiasm  from  the  evi- 
dent acquiescence  of  her  cousin. 

"  Suppose  we  talk  to  Aunt  Annie  about  it  before  we 
go  any  further.  I  feel  only  doubtful  whether  we  have 
any  right  to  gratify  ourselves  in  this  way  when  our 
army  is  on  half  rations,  and  everything  looks  so 
gloomy  for  our  cause." 

<<  Well,"  said  Mary,  "  I  think  that  is  a  very  good 
plan  ;  but  really  I  don't  see  any  harm  in  it.  We  don't 
intgnd  to  commit  any  great  extravagance,  only  put 
everything  we  have  together,  and  spend  the  day  to- 
gether, and  have  some  candy  for  the  children." 

Aunt  Annie  was  consulted,  and  not  only  acquiesced 
in  the  arrangement,  but  removed  the  doubts  as  to  the 
propriety  of  the  step. 

"■  I  don't  at  all  approve,''  she  said,  "  of  these  balls  and 
parlies  —  it  seems  heartless  enough  ;  but  for  a  simple 
family  gathering  and  being  as  cheerful  as  we  can,  I 
think  is  a  first-rate  idea,  even  if  we  do  have  to  jDut 
ourselves  on  half  rations  for  some  days  after.  I  be- 
lieve it  will  do  us  good,  put  a  little  spirit  into  us 
again." 

So  it  was  agreed  upon  finally,  unless  the  two  mammas 
objected,  Avhich  was  not  likely  since  Aunt  Annie  thought 
it  a  good  move. 
16* 


34G  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

The  two  cousins  parted  -with  a  kiss  at  the  corner  of 
the  street,  and  Ellen  Eandol2)h  walked  soberly  along, 
while  Mary,  as  if  the  attraction  of  gravitation  existed 
in  quadruple  quantity  in  the  home  towards  which  she 
was  approaching,  sped  onward  like  a  fairy-leaf  before 
the  wind.  Coming  to  a  brick  house  with  a  yard  in 
front,  she  looked  up  smilingly  at  one  of  the  windows, 
and  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  bright  laughing  face  of  a 
child  there,  she  clapped  her  hands,  and  cried  out,  "I 
knew  you  would  be  there,  you  darling  boy,  you  !  " 

She  was  answered  by  a  glad  shout,  and  two  other 
faces  appeared,  bidding  welcome,  the  one  bearded  and 
bronzed  but  with  the  tenderness  of  a  woman  in  it,  and 
the  other  soft  and  gentle  as  a  child's,  but  with  the 
shadow  of  years  creeping  over  it. 

This  was  the  one  event  of  the  day  to  Mary.  If  Eddy 
had  failed  to  aj^pear  at  the  window,  watching  for  her, 
she  would  have  been  sure  there  was  something  the 
matter ;  but  he  never  failed,  it  was  quite  as  much  of  an 
event  to  him  as  to  his  sister. 

Eunning  into  the  house,  the  joyous  girl  received  as 
warm  a  welcome  as  if  she  had  been  away  for  months. 

"And  what  kept  you  so  long?"  said  her  father; 
"  dinner  has  been  waiting  for  an  hour  at  least,  and  our 
sumptuous  repast  is  burnt  to  a  cinder,  I  exi^ect." 

"I  had  to  go  to  see  Aunt  Annie  on  business,"  said 
Mary,  with  her  most  important  air. 

"  Well,  let's  hoar  what  the  important  business  is," 
said  Mr.  Holcombe,  laughing  at  her  manner. 

"  It  can't  bo  discussed  at  present,"  said  Mary,  glanc- 
ing at  Eddy  ;  "  affairs  at  this  season  of  the  year  always 
have  to  be  Tery  private.  I  never  knew  anything  when 
I  was  a  child." 


OF  THE  LATE   WAB.  347 

^'Oh,  I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Holcombc,  taking  the 
bint,  and  the  subject  was  dropped.  Before  another 
could  bo  started,  the  door  opened  and  Mammy  made 
her  appearance  with  a  dish  with  some  species  of  meat 
on  it,  it  matters  not  what,  and  Uncle  Bob  followed  with 
a  dish  of  potatoes. 

It  would  have  been  ludici^us  if  it  had  not  had  a 
touch  of  pathos  in  it,  to  see  the  grand  .flourish  of  trum- 
pets these  two  fiiithful  old  Caleb  Balderstones  brought 
to  bear  as  a  cover  to  the  lackings  of  a  scanty  repast. 
Mammy  had  on  her  most  stately  turban  and  an  apron  of 
immaculate  whiteness,  while  her  coadjutor  graced  the 
occasion  in  his  best-preserved  suit  of  blue  cotton,  with  a 
waiter's  apron  around  his  waist. 

A  description  of  the  room  in  which  we  find  our  ex- 
iles will  not  be  amiss.  It  had  formerly  served  as  the 
parlor  to  the  mansion,  and  the  space  between  the  win- 
dows was  still  filled  up  by  a  long  mirror  with  heavy 
gilding,  resting  upon  a  marble  slab;  a  rich  chandelier 
hung  from  the  ceiling.  But  these  fragments  of  other 
days  looked  strangely  enough  when  brought  into  con- 
trast with  the  scanty  furniture  of  the  room;  it  con- 
sisted of  a  few  chairs,  a  piano,  and  a  round  table  now 
covered  with  the  simple  paraphernalia  of  the  dinner, 
table,  set  out  on  a  delicate  white  cloth.  ISTo  carpet  was 
on  the  floor,  the  boards  of  which  were  as  white  as  snow  • 
midway  of  the  room  and  extending  its  entire  length 
was  a  paper  screen,  or  more  properly  a  partition  cut- 
ting the  room  in  two,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  a 
space  filled  up  by  a  white  curtain  tastefully  draped ; 
it  was  half  looped  up  at  present,  and  a  glimpse  could  be 
caught  of  a  neat  bed  and  other  simple  furniture  of  a 
private  apartment.     So  this  one  room  served  as  sleep- 


348  WOMBJ^,  OB  CUROmVLES 

ing  apartment,  dining-room,  parlor,  and  sitting-room. 
It  was  a  cliange,  truly ;  and  it  was  strange  to  see  this 
family  sitting  down  to  their  frugal  meal  without  an 
allusion  to  the  change,  but  with  a  seasoning  for  their 
simple  food  of  bright  contented  spirits,  which  defied 
fate  to  do  its  worst ;  and  the  two  old  servants  standing 
behind  their  chairs  with  humble  mien,  and  hearts  where 
love  prompted  servicci    It  was  a  scene  for  a  painter. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAE.  349 


CHAPTEE    XXXIII. 

"  And  Belgium's  capital  had  gathered  there 
Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 
The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men." 

Byron. 

PERHArs  the  handsomest  portion  of  the  handsome 
city  of  Eichmond  is  the  eastern  end  of  Clay  Street, 
where  in  olden  time  the  wealth  and  aristocracy  of  the 
metropolis  built  their  residences,  and  where  the  stately 
old  buildings  still  stand  as  monuments  of  the  past. 

It  is  true  that  the  massive  walls  have  been  dressed 
anew  in  a  more  modern  fashion,  that  painters  and 
carvers  have  been  employed  with  doubtful  taste  to 
modernise  their  styles ;  but  in  vain:  the  indelible  stamp 
of  antiquity  is  still  upon  them,  they  yet  bear  upon  their 
time-honored  faces  the  date  of  a  hundred  years  ago, 
which  all  the  paint  ani  carving  has  failed  to  obliterate. 

Ask  that  old  citizen  and  he  will  point  you  to  the 
former  residences  of  the  Wickhams,  the  Lees,  the 
Marshalls,  the  Amblers,  the  I^icholases,  and  the  Brocken- 
broughs,  all  old  and  honored  Yirginia  names.  And  as 
the  city  has  increased  its  population,  it  has  still  spared 
the  beautiful  grounds  attached  to  these  old  houses, 
filled  with  substantial  and  luxuriant  shrubbery.  Eoses 
which  have  been  growing  and  clambering  for  so  many 
years  that  they  must  have  frames  to  support  their 
enormous  height,  unless,  as  is  often  the  case,  they  have 
been  planted  close  to  the  walls  of  the  houses,  where 
they  cling  and  bloom  as  luxuriantly  as  in  their  first 
youth. 


350  WOMEN,  OR  CBRONICLEB 

Then  there  are  arbors  covered  with  yellow  jessa- 
mine, and  picturesque  old  ruins  covered  with  ivy ;  the 
flower-beds  in  quaint  devices,  bordered  with  the  well- 
trimmed  box-edging;  the  great  trees  of  dark  arbor- 
vitae  mingling  with  the  glossy-leaved  magnolia.  The 
old  conservatories,  of  dimensions  almost  equal  to  a 
good-sized  dwelling-room,  against  the  glass  walls  of 
which  japonicas  of  every  shade,  Cape  jessamines,  aze- 
leas,  daphnes,  carnations,  fuchsias  and  geraniums  wave 
their  varied  hues.  At  the  end  of  this  street  the  city 
breaks  off  with  a  precipitation  almost  startling ;  there 
are  no  suburbs  of  straggling  low-built  and  low-bred 
houses,  at  the  doors  of  which  men  and  women  of  doubt- 
ful respectability  lounge,  and  where  ragged  urchins 
deface  the  scene  with  the  soil  and  grime  of  poverty. 

I  have  said  the  city  breaks  off  suddenly,  and  this  is 
literally  the  case,  for  about  ten  yards  from  the  front 
entrance  of  the  stateliest  old  building  on  this  stately 
old  street,  art  ceases  her  operations,  as  it  were  on  the 
instant,  and  nature,  as  if  tired  of  the  dull  uniformity 
of  this,  her  sister  and  her  rival,  puts  a  period  to  her 
work  by  a  precipice  of  considerable  height ;  and  looking 
down,  the  gazer  sees  a  ravine  with  a  stream  running 
through  it,  a  meadow  with  cattle  feeding  upon  it,  and 
beyond,  hills  covered  with  trees,  and  a  dark  line  of  pine 
woods  as  the  background.  It  is  a  sudden  emergence 
from  the  city  with  all  the  beauty  and  polish  which 
art  can  give,  into  the  country  where  nature  reigns 
sovereign. 

It  is  to  the  last-named  house  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  street  that  I  would  particularly  invite  the  attention 
of  the  reader. 

A  handsome   dark-gray  stuccoed   building,  opening 


OF  TEE  LATE  VTAn,  351 

directly  from  its  wide  front  portico  on  the  street. 
Standing  as  it  does  at  the  corner,  a  full  view  is  pre- 
sented to  the  passer-by  of  the  entire  residence,  with  its 
verandahs  and  beautiful  grounds  extending  back  half 
a  square.  It  looks  like  the  residence  of  a  prosperous, 
thrifty  man,  with  sufficient  of  the  good  things  of  this 
life  to  justify  him  in  collecting  the  comforts  and  luxu- 
ries of  existence  about  him,  and  with  no  desire  to  make 
a  useless  parade  of  his  wealth.  This  unpretending 
dwelling  with  its  citizen-like  appearance  is  the  residence 
of  the  President  of  the  Confederate  States.  It  is  here 
he  holds  his  simple  court,  and  here  he  finds  all  the  rest 
his  unenviable  position  affords  him ;  and  it  is  here  on 
this  December  night,  when  the  stars  are  blinking 
in  the  clear  cold  sky,  that  crowds  are  hurrying  to  the 
President's  levee.  And  we  too  join  the  stream,  and  arc 
borne  upon  it  into  a  wide  hall  brilliantly  lighted,  where 
the  masses  of  people  seem  to  have  congregated.  As 
the  press  is  almost  impenetrable,  we  draw  back  a 
moment,  hoping  to  be  able  to  catch  an  opportunity^  of 
wedging  our  persons  into  some  kind  gap  which  will 
doubtless  open  for  our  special  benefit,  and  while  we 
pause,  a  familiar  laugh  falls  upon  our  ear.  AVo  turn 
quickly  and  find  ourselves  in  the  neighborhood  of 
friends,  for  at  our  side  is  a  gentleman  whose  limi3ing 
gait  and  gray  clothes  tell  of  wounds  in  the  service  of 
the  Confederacy,  and  looking  up  we  recognise  Captain 
Holcombe,  and  on  his  arm  his  fair,  sweet  wife.  Behind 
them  is  Mary,  all  smiles  and  happiness,  escorted  by 
Mr.  Inskecp,  w^hose  very  step  speaks  the  pride  he  feels 
in  his  fair  charge;  and  still  following  on  is  Ellen  Ean- 
dolph,  looking  very  well  satisfied  as  she  leans  on  the 
arm  of  her  German  friend,  Mr.  Ilautman ;   and  next 


352  WOME^\  OR  CHRONICLES 

we  have  John,  laughing  and  joking  with  a  brown-eyed 
girl  who  accompanies  him  and  evidently  appreciates 
his  jokes  very  keenly,  ^o  time  like  the  present,  say 
we,  and  wedge  ourselves  in  along  with  this  party,  and 
so  into  an  ante-room,  where  a  gentleman  in  the  uniform 
of  a  Colonel  asks  our  names  and  undertakes  to  usher 
us  into  the  presence  and  to  the  acquaintance  of  tho 
President. 

"We  are  somewhat  awed  at  first  entering  the  recep- 
tion-room by  tho  blaze  of  light  and  the  blaze  of  uni- 
forms, as  officers  of  all  grades  throng  the  apartment; 
but  we  hear  the  voice  of  our  master  of  ceremonies  mur- 
dering our  names  most  atrociously,  and  find  ourselves 
grasped  by  the  hand  of  a  gentleman  in  citizen's  dress 
with  a  gentle  sadness  of  countenance  which  at  once 
attracts  and  touches  our  hearts.     It  is  President  Davis. 

There  is  an  almost  parental  benignity  in  his  greeting, 
particularly  when  his  eye  fiills  upon  the  fair  girlish 
face  and  figure  of  Mary  Holcomb'e,  whose  simj^le  dress 
of  white  muslin,  made  with  low  neck  and  short  sleeves, 
increases  greatly  her  youthfulness  of  appearance.  The 
President  evidently  fancies  her  a  pretty  child,  for  in- 
stead of  giving  her  the  formal  greeting  he  had  done  to 
the  others,  he  lays  his  hand  on  her  head  as  he  says  : 

"  llj  child,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.'' 

It  is  life  in  its  midnight  greeting  the  golden  dawn. 
It  is  the  attraction  which  the  old  man,  worn  with 
service  and  sinking  under  the  burdens  and  heat  of  the 
day,  feels  to  glad,  beautiful  youth,  the  retrospect  of 
his  own. 

In  a  moment  the  crowd  behind  presses  us  onward, 
and  we  are  glad  to  take  refuge  in  a  recess  and  look 
around  us. 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  B53 

There  are  many  faces  of  note  in  the  crowd,  some 
well-known  to  us  and  others  seen  for  the  first  time. 
First  and  foremost  in  the  public  eye  is  the  old  warrior 
General  Lee,  with  his  grand  face  and  figure,  striving  in 
genial  conversation  to  v/in  his  mind  from  the  cares  and 
anxieties  which  daily  gather  thicker  and  heavier  around 
him.  He  forms  quite  the  centre  of  a  group.  The 
stout  dark  man  speaking  so  earnestly,  and  whose  rather 
sombre  face  lights  up  so  wonderfully  with  a  smile,  is 
the  Hon  E.  M.  T.  Hunter,  the  former  distin- 
guished representative  from  Virginia  in  the  United 
States  Senate,  and  now  the  confidential  friend  of  Pres- 
ident Davis.  Beyond  him,  and  listening  intently 
to  his  words,  is  Hon.  Charles  Conrad,  of  Louisiana, 
former  Secretary  of  War  in  Taylor's  administration ; 
and  there,  and  there,  and  there  we  see  Generals  Long- 
street,  McLaws,  and  Kershaw,  besides  other  lesser  lights 
which  are  making  a  praiseworthy  effort  to  shine,  and 
succeeding  well  considering  the  fact  that  after  all  they 
are  but  tapers ! 

Amongst  the  ladies  of  the  company  there  is  consid- 
erable beauty,  though  it  is  beauty  under  great  disad- 
vantages. If  a  New  York  lady  of  the  ton  were  to  be 
dropped  into  the  midst  of  the  company,  she  would 
doubtless  "  die  with  laughter "  at  the  outre  styles  of 
dressing;  though  occasionally  a  fortunate  female  has 
succeeded  in  securing  through  the  lines  a  costume 
sufficiently  a  la  mode,  which  but  makes  more  conspicu- 
ous the  peculiarities  in  those  of  her  companions.  There 
were  dresses  of  every  fashion  and  texture  ;  some  with 
the  wealth  of  other  days  hanging  about  them  still,  and 
some  with  the  marks  of  the  new  Confederacy  ;  heavy 
silks  which  in  vain  try  to  look  new,  and  plain  stiff 
home-spun  unmitigatedly  Southern. 


354  WOMLW,  on  CHRONICLES 

Maiy  Holcombe  is,  as  usual,  the  light  which  attracts 
the  moths:  she  is  the  centre  of  an  admirinfj  thronrr, 
with  whom  she  is  jesting  and  laughing  with  her  usual 
unaffected  infectious  merriment,  to  the  infinite  pleasure 
of  her  companions,  if  we  except  her  escort,  Mr.  In- 
skeep,  who  keeps  his  post  beside  her,  jealously  claiming 
this  right,  while  his  fine  face  is  overshadowed  by  a 
moody  cloud,  and  he  vents  his  displeasure  by  twisting 
his  moustache  after  the  manner  of  his  sex. 

"  Were  you  at  Miss  Maiden's  wedding  the  other 
night?  "  asked  Mary  of  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

^'  Yes,  quite  a  brilliant  affair,"  was  the  ansAver. 

"Yes,  as  fixr  as  gas-lights  went;  but  the  crowd  be- 
haved dreadfully -^perfectly  shockingly  for  a  church  — 
laughing  and  talking,  some  of  them  standing  on  the 
backs  of  the  pews/' 

"The  bride  looked  very  prettily,"  said  another;  "I 
quite  envied  Colonel  Judson." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  an  amusing  story  Jennie  tells 
on  herself,''  said  Mary.  "You  gentlemen  know  —  or 
rather  you  don't  know  either:  how  should  you?  But 
it  is  a  fact  that  a  bridal  veil  is  such  an  expensive  item 
now-a-days,  the  very  plainest,  shortest,  and  skimpiest 
costing  about  three  thousand  dollars.  And  as  a  rnatter 
to  be  inferred,  very  few  brides  in  these  war-times  can 
afford  to  indulge  in  the  luxury ;  and  still,  notwithstand- 
ing this,  for  an  evening  wedding  one  must  have  a  veil. 
Now  you  needn't  laugh !  No  bride  can  be  happily 
married  in  the  evening  without  a  bridal  veil;  I  assert 
it  as  a  fact  known  to  my  whole  sex.  But  owing  to  this 
enormous  expense  which  puts  a  veil  beyond  the  reason- 
able expectations  of  ordinary  mortals,  various  treasured 
pieces  of  tulle,  laid  away  in  lavender  for  the  sake  of 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR,  355 

the  tender  recollections  thoy  recall,  have  been  brought 
out.  And  I  know  that  the  veil  Jennie  Maiden  wore 
the  other  night  had  officiated  at  seven  bridals." 

"  How  absurd  !  "  "  Impossible !  "  *'  You're  joking." 
"  Ha  !  ha  I  ha !  "  "  He  !  he  !  he !  "  was  echoed  from 
the  various  personages  among  the  listeners. 

"1^0  such  thing,"  said  Mary,  "it  is  all  perfectly  true. 
I  had  it  from  Jennie  myself.  The  veil  in  which  she 
was  married  served  in  the  first  instance  about  six 
years  ago,  and  it  was  resurrected  this  winter,  and  haa 
actually  hidden  the  blushes  of  six  brides !  But  the  best 
part  of  the  story  is  yet  to  come.  Jennie  says  the  day 
after  their  marriage  her  husband  came  to  her  and  said; 
'Jennie,  I  always  want  to  retain  a  recollection  of 
you  as  you  looked  last  night,  when  you  tooS  my  arm  to 
go  into  the  church.  And  I  want  you  to  give  me  that 
Avrcath  and  veil ;  I  shall  keep  it  among  my  treasures, 
and  get  it  out  when  we  grow  to  be  old  people.'  Ima- 
gine his  surprise  when  Jennie  said  very  seriously: 
<■  That  is  impossible,  as  it  was  borrowed,  and  I  sent 
it  home  this  morning.'  " 

"  What  a  crusher  to  sentiment !  "  laughed  one  of  the 
gentlemen. 

"  I  should  have  sued  for  a  divorce  on  the  instant," 
said  Mr.  Inskeep. 

"And  would  have  obtained  it,  doubtless,  without  any 
opposition  from  your  wife,"  said  the  young  lady 
quickly. 

"  I  often  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  one  of  the  party, 
"how  these  incidents  of  the  war  will  sound  ten  years 
after  its  close." 

"Now  do  you  really  think,"  said  Mary,  "that  the 
war  evei*  will  be  over?" 


356  WOMEN,  OB  CHRONICLES 

*'  Certainly  I  do." 

"Well,  I  feel  as  if  Tve  were  going  on  fighting  till  all 
the  best  men  in  the  country  are  killed  off,  and — " 

"  What  a  melancholy  prognostication  for  a  young 
lady  of  your  appearance !  "  said  a  voice  beside  her,  and 
she  turned  and  found  General  Lee. 

*'  Well,  General,"  she  said,  laughing  as  she  shook  hands 
■with  him,  "do  you  think  the  war  ever  will  be  over?  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so,  some  of  these  daj^s;  and  there  can  be 
no  danger  of  our  being  whipj^ed  so  long  as  we  have  so 
many  brave  women.  Why,  I  got  a  letter  a  few  days 
ago  from  a  lady  living  in  a  certain  town  in  Yirginia  of- 
fering herself  and  her  company  as  soldiers.  She  said 
that  the}'  had  been  drilling  regularly,  and  were  now 
ready  for  the  field." 

"  Xot  really  ?  "  said  Mary. 

"Yes,  really.">. 

"And  are  you  going  to  take  them  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"  Well,"  said  the  General,  "  in  these  scarce  times 
we  are  not  apt  to  decline  a  company  of  well-drilled 
soldiers.  I  think  my  influence  might  get  you  a  lieu- 
tenancy. Young  gentlemen,  what  do  you  think  would 
be  a  good  uniform  ?  Dress  Miss  Holcombe  now  by  the 
help  of  your  imaginations  in  the  most  becoming  cos- 
tume your  fancies  can  suggest,  and  I  shall  adopt  it  for 
my  fair  Amazons." 

"  But  I  decline,"  said  Mary,  laughing ;  "  I  never  could 
stand  fire  in  the  world." 

"  Then  I'll  put  you  to  hold  the  trenches." 

"  But  I  cannot  stand  mud  any  better  than  I  can  fire," 
objected  the  unwilling  conscrij)t. 

"Ah,"  said  General  Lee,  laughing,  "  you  won't  do  for 
my  company  then,  for  in  our  service  you  may  escape 


OF  TEE  LATE  WAR.  857 

the  shots  but  you  can't  escape  the  mud.  ^Pahna  non 
sinepidvere  '  is  the  motto  of  the  army.'^ 

"  Mr.  Inskeep,"  said  Mary  Holcombe,  as  they  left  the 
house  to  return  home,  "  I  am  never  going  Avith  you 
anywhere  again." 

<'  Why  not  ?  "  asked  that  gentleman,  much  surprised. 

"  Because  you  make  yourself  and  myself  both  absurd 
by  your  conduct,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  the  little 
tyrannical,  pettish  manner  which  the  consciousness  of 
power  over  a  man  whom  she  does  not  love  gives  to  a 
woman,  even  the  best  of  the  sex. 

"  How  ? ''  asked  Mr.  Inskeep. 

"  Oh  well,  I  shan't  explain  ;  but  it  isn't  the  first  time 
it  has  annoyed  me." 

*'  I  know  what  you  mean,  I  think,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, after  a  moment's  silence.  "  You  mean  that  I 
show  my  absurd  jealousy  whenever  you  talk  to  any  one 
else.^' 

*'  Yes  I  do,  and  I  have  told  you  over  and  over  again 
that  you  have  no  right  to  be  jealous  of  me." 

"  I  wish  I  had,"  said  Mr.  Inskeep,  impetuously. 

"And  you  never  will  have,"  said  Mary. 

"  How  can  you  speak  so  certainly  ?  "  asked  the  young 
man,  turning  upon  her  almost  fiercely.  "  I  have 
watched  you  keenly  and  jealously,  as  you  say,,  for 
eighteen  months  past,  and  I  knov^  you  do  not  care  for 
any  of  those  butterflies  which  play  around  you,  and  so 
long  as  that  is  the  case  I  don't  see  why  you  may  not 
love  me  yet.  I  have  as  much  to  offer  as  most  men. 
They  tell  me  I  am  handsome,  and  I  know  I  am.  You  tell 
me  I  have  more  than  ordinary  gifts,  though  I  throw 
them  away  because  I  have  no  incentive  to  success.  Is 
it  no  quickener  to  your  heart  that  you  hold  my  fuiure 


358  WOMEN,  OR  CEROmCLES 

in  your  hand,  that  your  mere  word  can  make  me 
what  you  will,  that  with  you  beside  mo  I  would  work 
on  without  weariness  to  the  goal,  because  it  Avould 
honor  you,  raise  you,  that  men  would  point  to  you  as 
the  wife  of  the  man  who  had  achieved  fume  ?  " 

They  were  j)assing  through  a  retired  part  of  the 
town,  and  the  moon,  which  was  just  above  their  heads, 
shone  its  brightest  upon  the  young  man's  face  as  he 
stopped  in  their  walk  and  stood  facing  the  young  girl, 
who  looked  up  almost  frightened  at  his  unexpected  ex« 
citement.  He  had  spoken  so  rapidly  that  she  had  had 
no  opportunity  to  stop  him  until  now ;  but  as  he  paused, 
she  said,  with  no  remaining  irritation  in  her  voice : 

"  ]\Ir.  luskeep,  it  is  not  only  useless  for  you  to  con- 
tinue to  indulge  in  this  kind  of  thing,  but  utterly 
wrong  ;  you  ruin  yourself  and  wrong  me." 

"  Why  is  it  useless  ?  How  do  you  know  it  is  ?  How 
can  you  be  certain  ?  Am  I  hideous  ?  Is  there  anything 
repulsive  in  my  appearance  ?  Am  I  an  idiot  that  you 
say  so  positively  that  you  never  will  love  me  ?  Oh ! 
why  have  I  anything  ?  Why  did  God  endow  me  with 
genius  and  the  love  of  the  beautiful  if  He  does  not 
give  me  the  power  to  gain  the  one  thing  which  can 
make  my  life  bearable  ?" 

There  was  a  reckless  desperation  in  his  manner  which 
awed  her  and  brought  out  her  true  character  from  the 
mere  dross  of  woman's  vanity,  made  her  ashamed  of  the 
unworthy  exhibition  of  temper  and  power  over  a  man 
whose  only  fault  was  in  loving  her  too  blindly  ;  so  she 
answered  very  humbly,  while  the  moonlight  shone 
upon  eyes  full  of  tears  of  regret : 

"!}.lr.  Inskecp,  I  know  it  is  utterly  despicable  in  me 
to  treat  you  as  I  do.     I  don't  know  what  makes  me  do 


OF  THE  LATE  Wxill.  359 

it,  except  that  I  am  a  woman,  and  in  no  way  better 
than  the  rest  of  my  sex.  The  sense  of  power  is  a  dan- 
gerous thing  for  a  woman.  You  ask  me  why  I  am  so 
certain  that  I  can  never  love  you  ?  I  don't  know  any 
better  than  you  do.  It  is  true  that  you  have  more  to 
offer  than  most  men,  than  any  man  I  know;  but  I 
cannot  hold  out  any  hope  from  my  present  feelings 
that  all  this  will  ever  move  my  heart.  I  feel  the  deepest 
interest  in  you." 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Mr.  Inskeep,  impatiently,  "  I  don't 
want  your  interest.  Please  don't  fall  into  that  com- 
monplace strain  ;  I  shall  expect  next  that  you  will  tell 
me  that  you  love  me  like  a  brother." 

Mary  could  not  help  smiling  ;  it  had  been  on  her  lips. 

*'  Don't  you  v\"ant  me  to  be  a  sister  to  you,  since  I 
cannot  be  anything  else  ?  "  said  she  gently. 

"  i^o  !  You  a  sister?  You  might  as  well  ask  the 
sun  to  turn  to  ice  at  once.  I  want  you  for  my  wife, 
and  am  never  going  to  give  up  the  hope  that  I  will 
have  you  until  you  are  married  to  another  man,  and 
before  that  day  comes  I  hope  I  may  be  dead." 

As  Mary  looked  up  at  him  and  realised  the  com- 
pleteness of  the  man  in  all  of  those  attributes  to  which 
she  believed  herself  peculiarly  susceptible,  she  won- 
dered at  her  own  insensibility.  Could  it  be  that  she 
wore  a  coat  of  mail  against' anj'  new  sentiment  of  the 
heart;  that,  as  she  had  once  told  Mr.  Williams,  her 
heart  was  dead  within  her  ?  No,  she  knew  it  was  not; 
she  felt  it  too  sensibl}^,  and  knew  it  was  living  and 
hoping  in  a  happy  future,  and  as  susceptible  to  im2)res- 
sions  as  it  had  ever  been.  One  other  solution  of  the 
mystery  occurred  to  her,  but  this  she  dared  not  face; 
and  the  blood  mounted  consciously  to  her  face  as  she 
turned  hastily  away  in  the  direction  of  her  home. 


360  WOMEI{,  OH  CERONICLES 


CHAPTEE    XXXIV. 

"  For  -what  is  worth  in  anything, 
But  so  much  money  as 'twill  bring  ?" — Butler. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  as  is  so  fre- 
quently the  ease  at  that  season,  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  new-fallen  snow  which  glittered  and  sparkled 
in  the  sunlight.  It  was  still  early  morning,  and 
the  work  of  clearing  the  pavements  had  scarce  begun, 
though  here  and  there  a  householder,  more  enterpris- 
ing than  his  fellows,  might  be  seen  shoveling  the  snow 
off  in  masses  to  the  sides  of  the  walks,  where  it  lay 
piled  up  and  shorn  of  its  purity  by  occasional  evidences 
of  its  contact  with  the  base  earth.  The  air  was  in- 
tensely cold,  and  every  now  and  then  the  shovellers 
would  pause  in  their  work  to  clap  their  hands;  and 
draymen  indulged  in  strange  gymnastics  as  they  drove 
slowly  along  the  streets,  in  order  to  keep  the  blood 
stirred  in  their  veins  ;  while  the  blue-nosed  pedestrians, 
their  feet  crunching  through  the  frozen  surface  of  the 
snow,  hurried  along  at  a  rapid  rate,  striving  to  increase 
their  inward  fires  by  the  supplies  of  oxygen  they  were 
imbibing  from  the  crisp  wintry  air. 

From  the  door  of  the  house  in  which  the  Holcombes 
had  their  residence,  four  ladies  issued,  their  faces  with  a 
genuine  holiday  glow  upon  them  which  bespoke  some 
of  the  frolicsome  tendency  so  inseparable  from  the  sea- 
son in  peace  times,  and  budding  here  in  a  besieged  city, 
and  in  spite  of  the  booming  of  the  death-dealing  can- 
non falling  upon  their  ears  at  intervals.    They  were  Atrs. 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  361 

Mason,  Mrs.  Holcombe,  Mary,  and  Ellen,  and  Mr.  Hol- 
combe  followed  them  to  the  door,  laughing  at  the  pre- 
parations for  the  shopping  expedition. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  suggested  he  banteringly,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  immense  rolls  of  bank-notes  in  the  hands 
of  Mary  and  Ellen,  who  had  constituted  themselves 
treasurers  on  the  occasion  —  "  don't  you  think  you  had 
better  hire  a  dray  to  carry  your  money  for  you,  and  a 
small  boy  will  be  able  to  bring  back  your  purchases?" 

*'  Kow,  no  insinuations,  Papa,''  said  Mary  saucily,  "  or 
you  won't  be  invited  to  our  Christmas  party." 

"At  least,  my  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Holcombe,  "  take 
a  military  guard  along  to  protect  the  wealth  you  carry. 
How  much  is  it  in  all  ?  '' 

*'•  Two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,"  said  Mary. 

"  Two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  !  "  exclaimed  he. 
*'!N"ot  to  be  spent  on  our  dinner  to-morrow  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  and  some  candy  for  the  children.  Eemember 
it  is  the  contributions  of  four  families,  and  Ellen  and 
myself  extra." 

"  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us !  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Holcombe  ;  ''  and  what  are  wo  to  do  the 
rest  of  the  month,  until  pay-day  comes  again  ?  " 

*' Oh  well,  we  v;ill  put  ourselves  on  half  rations," 
said  Mrs.  Mason  ;  *'  the  children  must  see  a  Christmas. 
It  will  be  nothing  like  the  old  times,  but  still  it  will 
give  them  some  faint  idea  of  what  it  is." 

*'  Weil,  wilful  women  will  have  their  own  way,"  said 
Mr.  Holcombe,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  but  I  really 
think  it  is  a  great  piece  of  extravagance  to  spend 
twenty-five  hundred  dollars  on  one  dinner  in  these 
times." 

"  These  are  really  the  only  times  when  it  would  be  at  all 
17 


362  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

admissible,"  said  Mrs.  Mason.  "  But  it  is  not  altogether 
for  the  dinner.  First  we  are  to  get  a  barrel  of  flour,  to  bo 
divided  between  us,  and  that  you  know  is  twelve  hun- 
dred dollars ;  then  a  ham  of  bacon  costs  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  dollars,  a  pound  of  pepper  costs  three 
hundred,  and  everything  in  a  like  proportion." 

"At  that  rate  your  twenty-five  hundred  won't  go 
very  far,"  said  Mr.  Holcombe,  laughing. 

"  It  is  the  united  wealth  of  the  family,"  said  Mrs. 
Holcombe,  "  so  it  must  go  as  far  as  we  can  make  it,'' 
and  off  they  started  for  the  market. 

It  did  not  look  very  much  like  starvation,  being  pretty 
well  stocked  with  "  flesh,  fish  and  fowl,"  as  well  as  vege- 
tables of  all  kinds. 

"  What  do  you  ask  for  your  turkeys  ?  "  said  Ellen, 
stopping  at  a  stall  where  a  number  of  them  were 
displayed  in  tempting  array. 

"  Well,  'pends  pun  the  size,"  said  the  woman.  "  This 
here  small  one  you  kin  have  for  seventy-five  dollars,  and 
agin  this  big  one  is  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  ;  they 
ranges  between  them  two  prices." 

The  money  was  unrolled  and  a  medium-sized  turkey 
purchased  for  one  hundred  dollars. 

"  Oh,  I  wonder  if  we  can  get  some  oysters !  "  said 
Mary,  looking  longingly  at  the  tempting  delicacies. 

"Seventy-five  dollars  a  gallon!"  It  was  doubtful; 
necessaries  must  be  attended  to  first. 

The  recital  of  the  prices  of  the  merest  necessaries 
of  life  seems  perfectly  fabulous.  There  is  no  room  for 
exaf?2:eration,  and  our  four  ladies  found  that  their 
preparations  for  Christmas  must  be  conducted  on  the 
most  frugal  scale.  The  coveted  candy,  to  give  the 
children  a  taste  of  the  luxury,  had  to  be  reduced  to 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR.  3G3 

one  pound,  for  which  they  paid  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars.  Sugar  seventy-five  dollars  a  pouud,  and  eggs 
twenty-five  and  thirty  dollars  a  dozen,  apples  five  dol- 
lars a  piece.  It  was  well  that  a  gradual  ascent  to  this 
fearful  condition  of  things  had  prepared  the  people  for 
it,  and  that  the  every-day  anxieties  of  life  should 
have  made  them  indifferent  to  such  secondary  consider- 
ations. 

"Well,  I  suppose,"  said  Ellen,  regretfully  looking 
at  the  almost  exhausted  roll  of  money  in  her  hands, 
"  we  will  have  to  make  up  in  cedar  and  holly  for  all 
other  deficiencies.  Here  the  money  is  almost  gone 
and  not  half  the  things  purchased  which  seemed  neces- 
sary." 

•'Well,  it  don't  make  any  difference,"  said  Mary; 
*'  we  can  have  a  nice  time  anyhow.  In  war-times 
people  can't  expect  to  have  much.  Wait  until  we  gain 
our  independence." 

"Mr.  Hautman  j)romised  to  send  a  wagon-load  of 
cedar,"  said  Ellen,  "and  we  can  manage  to  fill  up  the 
tree  with  little  matters  which  will  please  the  children." 

"Poor  little  things!  happily,  they  don't  know  any 
better,"  said  Mrs.  Mason. 

It  was  determined  to  have  the  entertainment  at  Mrs. 
Marshall's  house,  as  it  afforded  more  space  than  any 
of  the  other  establishments ;  and  when  our  party  re- 
turned there,  they  found  the  cedars  had  arrived,  and 
they  were  soon  busy  arranging  the  ornaments  with  as 
much  elaboration  as  their  limited  means  would  allow, 
while  the  older  ladies  undertook  the  more  substantial 
preparations. 

The  children  were  sent  out  of  the  way,  and  Mary 
Holcombe,  Ellen,   and  Miss  Mason,  assisted  by  Mr. 


36i  WOMEJS'-,  OR  CnHONICLES 

Hautman  and  Mr.  Inskeep,  sot  up  the  tree  and  trimmed 
it.  Tlicy  bung  long  strings  of  ^vbite  popped-corn  in  fes- 
toons from  it,  and  little  colored  tarlatan  bags  of  candj^, 
rosy  apples,  and  an  occasional  orange  did  tbcir  best  to 
enliven  the  entertainment ;  but  it  was  rather  a  meagre 
affair  after  all.  The  gentlemen  improved  matters  by 
cutting  ornaments  out  of  gilt  and  colored  paper,  and 
Mr.  Inskeep  brought  his  talent  to  bear  upon  the  occa- 
sion by  painting  some  pretty  little  baskets,  made  out 
of  simple  card-board,  while  Mary  Mason  manufactured 
flowers  out  of  tissue-paper. 

''  How  does  it  look  now  ?  "  said  Mary,  as  she  stood 
upon  a  step-ladder,  from  which  elevation  she  had  been 
arranging  the  different  articles  among  the  branches. 

"  Beautiful !  "  said  Mr.  Inskeep,  with  a  fervor  which 
made  Mr.  Hautman  laugh  as  he  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"Meester  Inskeep  see  only  wone  rose  on  do  tree." 

Mary  jumped  down,  blushing  as  she  did  so,  and  look- 
ing very  much  as  if  she  might  be  the  "  v/ond  i-ose." 

Mr.  Inskeej),  as  usual,  blind,  deaf,  and  insensible  to 
anything  but  her  presence,  failed  to  hear  the  whispered 
comment,  and  was  by  her  side  as  soon  as  she  reached 
the  floor. 

"  There,  let  me  do  that,"  said  he,  taking  from  her 
hands  the  briery  cedar  which  she  was  nervously  trying 
to  break  to  the  detriment  of  her  finirers. 

"You  think  me  perfectly  useless,  I  believe,"  said 
Mary,  laughing. 

*'  l!To ;  but  if  I  could  direct  it,  you  should  live  in  the 
roses  and  be  untouched  by  the  thorns  of  life,*'  whispered 
the  gentleman,  bending  over  her. 

Mary  tossed  her  head  impatiently.  Sentiment  when 
it  touches  no  kindred  chord  is  such  a  heavy  article, 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  365 

and  with  all  her  good  resolutions  and  her  real  esteem 
for  Mr.  luskeep,  it  always  made  her  impatient  and 
restless  when  the  enamored  young  man  would  inflict 
his  eloquence  of  this  nature  upon  her; 

"Oh,  please  don't/'  she  said  involuntarily,  and  then 
looked  at  her  finger  as  if  it  had  been  hurt ;  "  these 
cedars  are  so  briery." 

"  Eas  it  a  spleenter?"  asked  Mr.  Hautman,  his  eyes 
beaming  with  fun,  and  coming  forward  to  look  at  the 
wound. 

"Never  mind,  Mr.  Hautman,"  said  Mary,  "  I  can  get 
it  out  without  help,"  and  she  deceitfully  dug  away  at 
the  pretended  wound. 

"De  wune  is  not  dare,  Meess  Holcome,"  said  Mr. 
Hautman  ;  "  you  make  a  meestake." 

"Mr.  Hautman,"  said  Mary,  quickly,  "attend  to  your 
own  wounds,  and  I  will  attend  to  mine." 

Mr.  Hautman  for  once  was  silenced  by  this  vigorous 
carrying  of  the  war  into  his  own  territories,  and  Ellen 
Eandolph  turned  away  blushing.  At  this  moment, 
Mr.  Inskeep,  who  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Mary,  was 
startled  by  a  sudden  change  in  her  face.  Every  par- 
ticle of  blood  forsook  it,  and  her  eyes,  distended  with 
surprise  and  fright,  were  fixed  upon  the  door.  Turn- 
ing quickly  to  find  the  reason,  he  saw  a  pale  shadow  of 
manhood  gtanding  in  it,  with  one  arm  extended,  while 
the  stump  of  the  other  was  bound  up  with  white  ban- 
dages. At  the  same  instant  Ellen  Randolph  darted 
forward,  exclaiming  "Mr.  AYilliams!"  and  Mary  Hol- 
combe  came  tumbling  against  him,  and  before  he  could 
catch  her,  down  upon  the  floor  in  a  dead  faint. 

All  was  confusion  in  a  moment,  and  Mr.  Inskeep 
found  himself  suddenly  moved  aside  by  the  stranger, 


366  WOJIEI^,  OR  CHRONICLES 

who  with  a  very  assured  manner  lifted  the  exquisite 
head  and  kissed  the  white  lips  in  an  agitated,  heartfelt 
manner,  but  so  little  as  Mr.  Inskeep  would  have  done 
had  he  been  so  privileged,  that  the  gentleman  never 
thought  of  him  as  a  lover  —  that  pale,  worn  piece  of  a 
man.  It  was  then  a  sudden  awakening  when  Mary 
opened  her  eyes,  and  seeing  who  bent  above  her,  said, 
sobbing  and  laughing  in  a  breath : 

"  Ob,  is  it  true  ?  You  are  here  !  you  are  here  !  you 
are  here  !  " 

There  was  too  much  of  the  real  genuine  ring  in  the 
ecstatic  sound  not  to  send  conviction  to  the  heart  of 
the  miserable  young  man,  who  in  one  instant  read  the 
story  of  Mary's  insensibility,  his  rejection  and  miser- 
able future,  and  with  a  groan  which  sounded  like  the 
bursting  of  his  heart,  he  rushed  from  the  house. 

It  was  a  revelation  too  to  the  other  two  occupants  of 
the  room,  who  quietly  did  as  they  would  be  done  by, 
and  stole  away  without  a  word. 

Shall  we  do  the  same,  reader  ?  No  ;  we  are  either 
more  privileged  or  less  delicate,  and  we  cannot  quite 
tear  ourselves  from  the  sight.  We  see  him,  that  poor, 
wounded,  torn  remnant  of  a  man,  but  whose  great 
heart  is  still  untouched  —  we  see  him  lift  this  tender, 
fragile,  childish  form  from  the  ground  with  his  one 
arm.  "We  see  her,  with  all  her  shyness  lost  in  the  sud- 
denness of  this  return,  in  the  shock  of  his  great  loss, 
put  her  two  young  arms  around  his  neck  as  she  says: 

"Ah!  back  at  last!  And  they  shot  you;  oh!  oh! 
oh!  how  could  the}^  do  anything  so  cruel!  Does  it 
hurt  you?  Ah,  if  I  had  only  gone  with  you  they 
wouldn't  have  done  it!  But  I  will  be  arm  and  all  to 
you  now ! " 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAR.  367 

And  wo  bear  him  answer,  all  the  manliness  shaken 
out  of  his  voice  by  illness  and  agitation : 

"  And,  oh,  can  it  bo  possible  that  you  "will  really  give 
3'ourself  in  the  rich  fulness  of  your  nature  to  a  poor 
cripple?     I  came  to  resign  you." 

"  No,  no,  no  I  "  cries  Mary,  ^'  you  need  me  ten  thous- 
and times  more  now  than  you  ever  did.  You  sha'n't  give 
me  up.  If  an^^thing  could  make  me  satisfied  about  this," 
and  with  pretty  tenderness  she  touches  the  poor  muti- 
lated stump,  "  it  is  that  I  may  be  able  to  repay  you  in 
some  small  degree  for  your  long  faithfulness  and  love." 

He  replies  in  his  tremulous  voice,  which  still  vibrates 
with  the  music  of  perfect  happiness  : 

^'  You  are  the  richest  earthly  reward  God  could  be- 
stow upon  a  faithful  man." 

And  now  w^e  go  ;  but  we  return  whon  Mr.  Ilolcombo 
comes.  We  see  those  two  approach  him;  she  held 
tight  within  the  clasp  of  his  arm,  and  her  face  .a  per- 
fect April  shower  of  smiles  and  tears.  And  we  see 
Captain  Holcombe's  astonishment  as  Mr.  Williams  put 
his  treasure  into  her  father's  arms,  and  says: 

''  Give  her  to  me  I  I  ask  a  great  deal ;  but  she  is 
willing  to  come,  and  I  have  loved  her  nearly  all  of  her 
life." 

And  then  the  explanations  which  follow,  during 
which  the  father  holds  his  child,  and  at  its  end  says  : 

''  I  thank  God,  my  friend,  that  I  can  thus  secure  her 
happiness,"  and  kissing  her,  he  resigns  her  to  her  glad 
lover. 

And  then  the  rest  of  the  family  come  in,  and  the  ex- 
planations must  be  given  again,  though  very  briefly. 
And- how  everybody  laughs,  but  is  touched  neverthe- 
less to  see  the  little  betrothed  bride  takin^^  her  new 


368  WOMEN,  OR  CnRONIGLES 

offices  upon  her  so  eagerly  and  gracefully,  watching  to 
see  how  she  can  supply  his  loss;  and  how  she  cannot 
believe  he  can  do  anything  for  himself,  but  must  be 
utterly  dependent  upon  her;  and  how  ho  laughingly 
shows  her  how  wonderfully  ho  has  learned  to  make 
one  hand  do  the  work  of  two  ;  and  how  when  the  time 
comes  to  go  home  no  one  but  herself  must  hold  his 
overcoat  for  him,  and  help  him  on  with  it,  and,  ah  ! 
so  tenderly  and  lovingly  avoiding  the  wounded  arm ; 
and  how  he  laughingly  assures  her  that  it  only  takes 
one  hand  to  put  on  a  hat  at  any  rate;  but  she  likes  to 
do  it,  and  he  likes  to  receive  her  loving  service  ;  and 
how  he  assures  her  in  the  dark,  beautiful  walk  home  that 
she  is  better  to  him  than  a  thousand  arms,  and  the 
happiness  of  this  one  night  surpasses  all  the  happiness 
of  his  whole  life ;  and  how  she  cries  when  he  tells  her 
of  his  sufferings,  not  so  much  bodily  as  mental,  when 
he  lost  his  arm,  and  felt  that  it  cut  off  the  last  hope  of 
winning  her ;  and  all  this  aggravating  his  illness,  his 
life  was  despaired  of,  and  he  wanted  to  die,  but  lived 
on  in  spite  of  the  wish,  and  rose  up  from  his  bed  so 
shattered  and  broken  that  no  one  could  have  known 
him.  And  then  he  told  her  of  his  sad  journey,  his 
arrival  in  Eichmond,  his  going  first  to  her  own  home, 
and  then  his  following  her  to  Mrs,  Marshall's,  and  how 
all  the  resignation  to  his  fate,  he  thought  he  had  gained, 
fled  when  he  saw  her  standing  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Christmas-tree,  with  that  radiant  j)icture  of  man- 
hood bending  over  her, 

"Mr.  Inskeep,  poor  Mr.  Inskeep  !  How  cruel  in  me 
to  have  forgotten  |^im,"  said  Mary.  But  she  cannot 
talk  of  him  even  to  Mr.  Williams  in  this  hour  of  her 
hax>i)incss.     Her  tenderness  extends  to  the  poor  out- 


OF  TUB  LATE  WAB.  369 

cast  from  her  heart,  and  she  grieves  over  his  sorrow,  but 
silently  ;  and  thinks  of  him  long  after  she  retires,  and 
tries  to  form  some  plan  whereby  she  may  help  him  to 
bear  his  disappointment :  picks  out  a  wife  for  him  who 
is  so  much  more  attractive  than  herself,  and  she  thinks 
that  she  is  sure  ho  must  come  into  terms,  and  so 
she  goes  to  sleep  very  happily,  with  a  smile  on  her  lip 
and  a  thanksgiving  in  her  heart. 


17*= 


370  WOMEJS',   OR   CURONICLES 


CHAPTEK  XXXY. 

"  And  there  wag  mounting  in  hot  haste ;   the  steed, 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed, 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war ; 
And  the  deep  thunder  peal  on  peal  afar, 
And  near  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum, 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star, 
While  thronged  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb, 
Or  whispering  with  white  lips  :  The  foe  !  they  come  !  they  come  !" 

Byron. 

Silently  yet  surely  the  day  was  striding  on,  big 
with  the  fate  of  the  Southern  cause,  while  rocked  in 
false  security  the  people  dreamed  not  of  its  approach. 
They  stopped  their  ears  to  warning  voices,  and  wil- 
fully closed  their  eyes  to  the  truth,  and  went  on  laugh- 
ing and  singing  on  the  very  brink  of  destruction  ;  and 
vrhen  at  last  the  blast  sounded,  it  sounded  the  knell  of 
hope  and  faith  and  happiness. 

Kever  did  the  sun  rise  more  brilliantly  than  upon 
the  morning  of  the  2d  of  April  1865,  and  never  did  it 
shine  upon  a  people  more  unconscious  of  the  fate  that 
day  had  in  store  for  them. 

It  was  the  Sabbath,  and  the  sound  of  the  bells  ring- 
ing out  the  *•'  call  to  prayer,"  broke  sweetly  upon  the 
stillness,  and  the  people  in  glad  obedience  to  the  sum- 
mons poured  into  the  churches. 

"What  news?  "  asked  one  friend  of  another  in  a  pass- 
ing greeting. 

"  All  quiet,"  was  the  answer  ;  *^  not  even  '  Sunday  ru- 
mors '  this  morning.      The  croakers  look  peaceful,  and 


OF  TUE  LATE  WAR.  371 

were  undisturbed  by  the  shots  along  the  lines  a  few 
hours  since.  I  did  see  some  stragglers  looking  at  the 
bulletin  board  as  I  passed,  but  I  did  not  stop/' 

"  Ah  !  "  answered  the  other,  "  officers  of  the  Com- 
missary Department  say  Richmond  made  a  narrow  es- 
cajDe  a  few  weeks  since ;  she  was  near  being  starved 
out.  But  all  this  stir  has  roused  the  people  at  last,  and 
they  have  been  crowding  provisions  into  the  city,  and 

I  was  assured  this  morning  by  Captain  H that  we 

had  not  been  so  safe  for  months." 

*'  Oh  yes,  it's  very  cheering,"  said  his  friend.  *'  I  never 
have  had  any  doubt  of  our  success,  and  I  think  the 
other  side  must  be  pretty  well  convinced  that  we  never 
intend  to  give  up.  We  have  given  them  a  sj^ecimen  of 
our  invincible  determination." 

And  they  passed  on  into  the  churches,  and  heard  not 
the  voices  everywhere  crying,  "  Blind  !  blind  !  blind !  '^ 
for  even  now  the  messengers  were  speeding  onward  with 
the  awakening  tidings. 

It  was  the  Sabbath  for  the  administration  of  the 
Holy  Communion  at  St.  Paul's  Church,  and  President 
Davis  went  up  with  the  rest  of  the  people  of  God  to  lay- 
bis  burden  of  care  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross  ;  but  before 
the  time  for  that  service  arrived,  a  soft-footed  messenxrer 
sought  him  out  and  handed  him  a  note.  He  glanced  at 
it,  and  had  not  the  congregation  been  devoutly  atten- 
tive to  their  religious  duties  they  might  have  seen  a 
sudden  spasm  cross  his  pale  face,  and  with  faltering 
steps  he  left  the  church. 

The  note  was  from  General  Lee,  conveying  the  intel- 
ligence that  Eichmond  \vas  no  longer  tenable ! 

At  the  Presbyterian  Church,  the  E'ev.  Dr.  Hoge  held 
the  attention  of  his  people  in  the  strong  grasp  of  his  elo- 


372  WOMEIf,  OR  CHRONICLEa 

quence,  so  that  they  scarcely  noted  the  summons  which 
Tvithdrew  one  member  and  another  of  the  comrrcfration 
from  the  church,  first  the  Mayor  of  the  city,  then  the 
Medical  Director.  The  Eev.  Doctor  had  finished  his 
discourse  and  fervently  commended  his  people  to  God, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  reading  the  closing  hymn,  when 
the  sexton  handed  him  a  note. '  Thinking  it  was  some 
notice  to  be  read,  he  laid  it  beside  him  a  moment  while 
he  finished  the  hymn,  and  then  in  the  act  of  turning  to 
his  seat,  opened  it.  In  a  second,  before  the  choir  had 
time  to  sound  the  first  note  of  praise,  he  turned  back 
again,  and  those  who  saw  him  then  can  never  forget 
the  change  which  that  one  moment  had  wrought.  Win- 
ters of  sorrow  seemed  to  have  rolled  over  his  soul. 

So  terrific  was  the  transition,  that  as  his  congrega- 
tion caught  his  expression  they  arose  as  one  man  to 
their  feet,  and  waited  with  suspended  shriek  upon  their 
lips  to  hear  their  doom.  It  was  delayed  a  moment 
while  the  minister  struggled  for  utterance,  and  then  the 
voice  came  shaking  and  quavering,  and  broken  with 
the  agony  which  overwhelmed  him,  and  in  the  terrible 
silence  they  heard : 

"My  dear  friends,  I  have  just  received  news  :  news 
which  wrings  my  heart  for  myself,  for  you,  and  for 
your  children ;  news  which  makes  it  improbable  that  I 
will  meet  you  in  this  house  again  for  a  long  time.  I 
thank  you  for  your  unfailing  kindness  and  love,  which 
have  brightened  my  life.  Farewell :  go  quietly  to  your 
homes,  and  remember  amidst  these  waves  of  sorrow 
that  your  Father  holds  the  helm."  He  then  pro- 
nounced the  benediction. 

There  is  a  grief  which  scorches  the  tear-drops  ere 
they  fall ;  imd  the  great  groan  which  burst  from  the 


OF  THE  LATE  ^YAn.  373 

heart  of  that  assembly  of  people  was  the  only  sound 
which  demonstrated  the  agony  of  the  moment.  Faces 
were  distorted,  but  the  moisture  which  cools  the  brain 
was  denied  them.  Friend  grasped  the  hand  of  friend, 
as  on  the  eve  of  a  long  parting,  or  a  meeting  where  life's 
hopes  lie  dead ;  words  were  few  and  brief;  comforters 
there  were  none,  all  were  mourners.  The  men  hur- 
ried out  into  the  street  to  gain  fuller  intelligence,  and 
the  women,  as  if  the  fire  already  consumed  their  homes, 
hurried  to  their  children. 

No  pen  can  describe  the  horror  of  the  moment.  In 
the  streets  all  was  confusion.  Officers  hurried  to  the 
different  departments  of  the  Government.  The  Banks 
were  open,  and  depositors  eagerly  embraced  the  oppor- 
tunity to  withdraw  their  gold,  while  the  Directors 
superintended  the  removal  of  the  bullion.  Wagons 
drove  hurriedly  up  to  the  doors  of  the  different  offices, 
were  loaded  and  driven  off,  while  others  took  their 
places,  to  be  loaded  in  their  turn  and  follow  on.  Offi- 
cers rode  madly  about  the  streets,  giving  orders.  The 
female  clerks  stood  sadly  about  the  doors  of  their 
offices,  or  vented  their  feelings  by  giving  energetic 
assistance  in  packing  and  burning  the  documents  over 
which  they  had  spent  so  many  useless  hours.  House- 
holders busily  occujoied  themselves  secreting  their  valu- 
ables, and  preparing  for  the  sacking  of  the  city  which 
every  one  predicted  as  certain  ;  while  the  lower  orders 
of  people  stood  in  squads  about  the  streets,  with  low- 
ering faces,  watching  the  progress  of  events,  and  com- 
menting thereon  in  low  murmurs.  So  the  day  wore 
away,  and  night  fell  upon  the  grief-stricken  city  —  a 
night  whose  horrors  rarely  have  been  surpassed.  The 
evacuation  by  the  army  was  fixed  for  eight  o'clock,  but  it 


374  WOM£!y,  OR  CI1R0NICLE9 

extended  through  th^  night,  and  the  wail  of  agony  roso 
for  the  first  time  over  the  partings  between  friends 
who  scarce  expected  to  meet  again  on  earth.  Hun- 
dreds of  the  citizens  determined  to  leave  the  city  with 
the  army,  and  all  the  vehicles  were  pressed  into  ser- 
vice or  hired  at  a  premium  exceeding  belief. 

At  eleven  o'clock  at  night  the  train  on  the  Danville 
road  bore  off  the  officials  of  the  Government  and  their 
valuables,  and  all  who  could  escaped  in  any  way  which 
presented  itself. 

But  soon  a  more  terrible  master  than  the  Federal 
Government  ruled  the  city.  TTho  gave  the  order  for 
the  firing  of  the  Government  tobacco- warehouses  is  not 
known  j  the  recklessness  of  the  people  to  consequences 
alone  could  have  justified  it,  as  they  occupied  a 
position  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  the  fire  spread 
with  fearful  rapidity.  To  add  to  the  horror  of  the 
scene,  a  mob  of  men,  women  and  children  went 
wildly  from  place  to  place,  breaking  open  ware- 
houses and  bearing  off  whatever  fell  in  their  way. 
"Wishing  to  prevent  them  from  getting  hold  of  the 
liquor  which  was  stored  by  the  Government,  orders 
were  issued  by  the  city  officials  to  pour  it  into 
the  street?.  The  gutters  ran  with  it,  and  the  mad 
flame  rejoicing  in  the  approach  of  this  its  kindred 
spirit,  leaped  to  meet  it,  and  soon,  roaring,  crackling, 
and  dashing  in  blue,  red,  and  yellow  waves,  the  demon 
whirled  down  the  streets,  carrying  destruction  with  it 
and  driving  the  frightened  crowd  before  it.  At  day- 
break the  city  was  shaken  to  its  foundations  by  terri- 
fic explosions.  It  was  the  blowing-up  of  the  rams 
Eichmond,  Virginia,  Beaufort,  and  jSTumber  2,  the 
navy  whose  advent  had  been  greeted  with  so  much 


OF  TUB  LATB  V^AE,  375 

hope.  The  scene  presented  at  sunrise  defies  dcscrip- 
lion.  Soldiers  crossed  each  other  hurrying  after  the 
army  or  returning  sullenly  to  their  homes.  Sometimes 
two  would  stop  and  talk  earnestly;  at  one  moment 
the  eloquence  of  one  would  touch  the  waning  honor 
in  the  breast  of  his  comrade,  or  revive  the  dying  love 
for  the  cause  in  his  heart,  and  he  would  turn  back  and 
hurry  on  with  him;  at  another  the  contrary  would  be 
the  result,  and  fear,  discouragement,  or  reluctance  to 
leave  his  home  would  operate  too  powerfully  upon  the 
heretofore  faithful  soldier  of  the  Confederacy.  With  a 
blush  he  would  turn  his  back  on  the  path  of  duty,  and 
hanging  his  head,  would  seek  his  home,  a  dishonored 
man. 

Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren poured  up  the  street  with  the  spoils  of  the  night 
upon  them.  Here  is  a  man  with  a  roll  of  cotton  on 
his  shoulder;  another  with  a  box  of  shoes  or  of  bacon 
on  his  back;  next  comes  a  woman  rolling  a  barrel  of 
flour  before  her,  and  a  child  with  a  basket  almost  too 
full  for  him  to  carry ;  and  over  it  all  the  lurid  smoke 
rolls  in  angry  clouds,  and  the  rising  sun  shines  red 
through  its  obscurity;  and  far  away  speeds  the  fugi- 
tive army  to  its  fate,  bearing  the  last  hopes  of  a  suffer- 
ing  and  distracted  people. 

As  the  day  progressed  the  horrors  increased.  Fugi- 
tives from  the  burning  buildings,  who  had  only 
escaped  with  their  lives,  filled  the  streets,  now  their 
only  home.  The  fire  had  progressed  fearfully,  and 
some  individual  in  reckless  or  devilish  mood  had  cut 
the  hose,  and  help  was  impossible  had  there  been  any 
to  give  it;  but  no  one  seemed  to  heed  this  pitiless  foe 
while    looking   for    another  whom   they   feared   still 


376  WOMEN,    OR    CnRONICLES 

more.  At  length  a  succession  of  explosions  like  a 
heavy  bombardment  broke  upon  the  startled  ears  of  the 
jDcople.  Was  the  dreaded  enemy  upon  them?  and  was 
this  the  beginning  of  his  vengeance?  No!  it  was  the 
Arsenal,  which  was  fast  consuming  with  its  murderous 
shot  and  shell,  which,  not  to  be  balked  of  the  object 
for  which  they  had  been  made,  wreaked  themselves 
upon  the  helpless  dying  city,  and  fired  into  the  fire  it- 
self in  a  vain  efi'ort  at  revenge. 

And  as  if  the  culmination  of  horrors  was  even  yet  to 
come,  a  new  cry  broke  out  which  sent  the  blood  shiver- 
ing back  to  the  heart.  It  was  the  eruption  of  the  con- 
victs from  the  Penitentiary;  and  they  came  leaping 
and  shouting  with  their  parti-colored  clothes,  shorn 
heads,  and  diabolical  countenances,  where  murder,  rob- 
bery, and  rapine  were  stamped  in  fearful  characters. 
They  were  about  four  hundred  in  all,  who  had  overcome 
their  diminished  guard,  set  fire  to  the  building  and  es- 
caped when  there  was  no  one  to  recapture  them.  Many 
a  heart  which  had  kept  its  courage  up  to  this  point  died 
away  at  the  sight ;  but  fortunately  they  were  too  intent 
upon  securing  their  new-gained  liberty  to  attempt  new 
crimes,  and  no  immediate  evils  followed  their  appear- 
ance. At  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  cry, 
"  The  Yankees !  the  Yankees  !  "  startled  all  with  new 
fears  as  the  crowds  fied  up  the  streets  with  frightened 
faces. 

But  what  had  been  apprehended  as  the  greatest  evil 
of  all,  proved  in  the  end  a  blessing,  as  it  brought  an 
element  into  the  storm  of  disorder  and  misrule  which 
in  some  degree  quelled  it.  So  far  from  committing 
deeds  of  violence,  the  first  act  of  the  Federal  force  was 
an  organised  steady  exertion  to  subdue  the  fire  and  re- 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  377 

store  order  ;  and  by  night  the  flames  began  to  succumb 
to  their  efforts,  and  the  fire  sank  doAvn  exhausted,  but 
glowing  with  smouldering  rage  Avhieh  only  watched 
an  opportunity  to  break  out  again  with  renewed  vio- 
lence. 

The  scene  of  desolation  Avas  fearful  to  witness.  It  pre- 
sented masses  of  ruined,  blackened  walls,  with  the  fire 
still  burning  in  their  midst ;  suggesting  to  the  imagina- 
tion no  inapt  similitude  to  the  heart  of  the  nation, 
which  now  existed,  a  ruin  pitiable  to  behold,  with  the 
smouldering  fires  of  disaj)pointment  and  bitterness 
glowing  in  the  midst. 

The  fire  had  extended  for  miles,  consuming  every- 
thing which  came  in  its  way.  The  streets  were  mere 
piles  of  rubbish ;  all  marks  were  lost  whereby  the 
pedestrian  could  conjecture  his  position,  except  the 
calm  waters  of  the  James,  which  rolled  itself  as  quietly 
and  peacefully  along  as  if  no  such  waves  as  war  and 
violence  had  ever  ruffled  the  surface  of  time. 

The  Capitol  Square  presented  a  strange,  sad  picture  ] 
the  fire  had  consumed  everything  consumable  around 
three  sides  of  its  lower  area,  and  the  old  Capitol  stood 
alone,  as  it  were  in  the  midst  of  an  island  against  the 
shores  of  which  the  waves  of  ruin  beat. 

Upon  the  green  grass  of  the  square  sat,  lay,  or  stood 
hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  human  beings  of  all  ages, 
sexes,  and  ranks  of  life,  in  various  attitudes  of  despon- 
dency. They  were  the  homeless  outcasts  of  the  fire  j 
and  above  them  waved  and  flapped  the  United  States 
flag,  the  token  of  their  defeat  and  humiliation,  and 
around  them  the  negro  soldiers  and  the  negroes  of  the 
city  exulted  and  shouted  over  the  triumphs  of  the  day. 
The  destitution  in  the  city  was  fearful;  all  of  the  lower 


378  WOMUy,  OR  CHRONICLES 

part  of  it  having  been  consumed,  and  with  it  such  pro- 
visions as  it  contained,  lumbers  had  escaped  from 
their  burning  homes  with  only  their  lives,  and  the 
fact  that  the  only  money  the  mass  of  the  people  pos- 
sessed was  the  Confederate  currency,  reduced  all  classes 
alike  to  absolute  want. 

Capt.  Holcombe  had  been  obliged  to  leave  with  the 
army,  but  his  mind  was  comparatively  easy  upon  the 
subject  of  his  family,  as  the  Commissary  Department, 
to  whose  office  Mary  belonged,  issued  orders  that  pro- 
visions sufficient  for  the  subsistence  of  a  family  for  sev- 
eral months  should  be  sent  to  each  one  of  their  female 
clerks,  together  with  six  boxes  of  tobacco,  which  in 
itself  would  have  been  as  good  as  gold  to  them.  And 
fortunately  for  Mr.  Holcombe's  peace  of  mind,  he  did 
not  know  that  these  orders  never  were  filled.  The 
mob  and  the  fire  together  consumed  the  entire  stock  of 
Government  provisions,  and  the  poor  women  who  had 
depended  upon  them  were  left  perfectly  destitute. 
Their  residence  was  not  in  the  burnt  district  of  the 
city,  so  that  they  were  better  off  than  many  of  their 
friends  in  that  they  still  had  a  roof  over  their  heads, 
but  in  that  alone ;  for  the  day  after  the  departure  of 
the  army,  Mrs.  Holcombe,  Mary,  and  little  Eddy,  to- 
gether  with,  the  two  old  servants,  were  reduced  to  a 
half  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  with  no  hope  of  relief 
beyond  it. 

"Ah,  Mammy,"  said  Mrs.  Holcombe,  as  she  looked 
at  the  pale  faces  of  her  children,  *'  what  are  we  to  do  ? 
I  went  out  this  morning  and  found  my  money  was 
worth  nothing,  and  when  this  is  gone  I  do  not  see 
what  is  to  become  of  us." 

Mammy  groaned  aloud,  and  after  a  few  moments' 
thought  she  said : 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  379 

''My  Misstis,  God  knows  I  could  lay  down  and  dio 
raddcr  den  sec  my  old  marster's  cliildcrn  wid  nothm'  to 
eat  Oh  ef  ho  could  raise  his  head,  what  would  he 
think'  But  ef  you  will  all  keep  right  quiet,  Bob  en' 
me  will  go  to  deso  people;  dey  say  dey  hkes  black 
folks  better'n  white,  en'  dey  is  done  dressed  sum 
of  'em  up  in  rigimintals,  like  a  passel  of  monkeys  for 
all  de  world ;  but  maybe  me  en'  Bob  can  git  you  some- 
thin'  to  eat." 

Mrs.  Holcombe  made  no  remonstrance,  but  saw  the 
two  old  people  start  out  with  a  basket  with  very  little 
hope  of  their  success. 

In  about  two  hours  they  returned  exultant. 
c'We  went,"  says  Mammy,  *'to  the  Fiddil  Gmeral, 
en'  I  told  him  dit  I  had  a  house  full  of  childern  who 
was  starvin'-  may  de  good  Lord  forgive  de  lie  I  told! 
—  en'  would  he  be  so  good  es  to  give  me  sumfin  for 
'cm  to  eat.  He  axed  me  en'  Bob  sum  questions,  but  we 
nuvver  said  white  onced;  en'  he  sont  us  down  to  another 
man  en'  he  sont  us  down  to  another,  en'  he  sont  us 
down  to  another  yit,  tell  dey  was  six  on  'em,  en'  he  give 
us  dis  meat  en'  meal,  which  ain't  fitten  for  nothin'  but 
Bio-o-crs,  en'  to  keep  white  ladies  from  starvin'." 

Mrs  Holcombe  bent  over  the  basket,  into  which  her 
tears  fell  plentifully  as  she  looked  thankfully  at  the 
coarse  pickled  pork  and  corn-meal,  which  would  keep 
hunger  away  a  little  longer  from  their  household 
while  Mary  threw  her  arms  around  Mammy  and  sobbed 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

After  a  day  or  two,  the  Federal  commandant  of  the 
post  recognising  the  necessity  for  taking  some  steps 
to  remove  this  terrible  destitution,  appointed  officers 
who  went  around  to  each  house  in  the  city  and  issued 


380  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

rations  to  all  alike.  »Somo  idea  may  be  gathered  of  the 
condition  of  things  from  the  rej^ort  of  the  Seerctuiy 
of  the  Eelief  Committee,  who  from  the  8th  of  April  to 
the  15th  issued  eightj^-six  thousand  five  hundred  and 
fiftj^-five  rations!  A  terrible  picture  is  thus  presented, 
as  thousands  had  fled  from  the  city,  and  at  least  one- 
third  of  the  remaining  population  must  have  subsisted 
upon  the  rations  issued  by  cheir  captors. 

The  other  two  families  for  whom  our  story  claims 
an  interest  were  reduced  to  like  straits,  but  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  harrow  the  feelings  of  our  readers  by 
relating  them. 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  381 


CHAPTEE   XXXVI. 

"Hope  for  a  season  bade  the  world  farewell, 
And  Freedom  shrieked  when  Kosciusco  fell." — Campbell. 

One  week  passed  over  the  people  of  Eichmond, — 
a  week  ia  whieh  hope  still  lived,  and  served  to  sustain 
them  under  the  anxieties  they  suffered,  not  only  for 
themselves,  but  for  their  absent  friends,  about  whom 
they  could  hear  nothing  reliable. 

It  was  the  Sunday  after  the  evacuation ;  the  suffering 
people  had  most  of  them  gone  forth  as  usual  to  the 
churches,  some  as  a  matter  of  habit,  some  from  curios- 
ity, and  others  with  a  desire  to  obtain  comfort  in  the 
house  of  God  which  was  denied  them  in  their  closets; 
but  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  most  melancholy  feat- 
ure of  the  then  present  feeling  in  the  South  was  a 
tendency  to  infidelity,  or  at  least  skepticism:  They  had 
so  long  clung  with  undoubting  confidence  to  the  help 
of  God,  founded  upon  the  righteousness  of  their  cause, 
that  the  mind  could  not  at  once  recover;  it  was  at  sea 
in  a  storm  without  rudder  or  sail,  grasping  for  the 
help  which  did  not  come;  and  in  the  despair  which 
ensued,  doubt  took  possession  of  it,  and  a  sullen  dis- 
trust even  of  its  Maker. 

No  army  could  have  behaved  better  under  the  cir- 
cumstances than  did  the  United  States  army.  They 
not  only  committed  no  depredations,  but  they  kept 
aloof  from  the  people,  recognising  at  once  the  bitter- 
ness of  feeling  which  must  have  way.  So  in  tho 
churches  they  sat  off  by  themselves,  instead  of  mingling 


382  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

with  them.  Yerv  little  allusion  was  made  from  the 
pulpits  to  the  coDdition  of  affairs;  indeed  it  had  been 
forbidden  so  far  as  prayers  for  the  Confederacy  was 
concerned ;  but  no  order  could  govern  the  nation's 
heart,  and  many  an  anguished  supplication  ascended 
to  heaven  from  those  altars  for  the  little  band  of  fug- 
itives whose  cause  was  even  then  beyond  the  reach 
of  prayer. 

One  old  Baptist  minister  prayed  : 

"  O  Lord,  thou  who  seest  our  hearts,  knowest  what 
we  so  earnestly  desire,  but  dare  not  specify  in  words, 
Grant  it,  O  Lord,  grant  it !  " 

About  eight  o'clock  at  night  the  tense  nerves  of 
the  people  vibrated  painfully  at  the  sound  of  a  gun, 
and  before  its  echoes  died  away  another  followed,  and 
another  and  another,  until  sixty  were  counted.  It  was 
a  salute  to  celebrate  some  triumph.  What  could  it  be  ? 
They  dared  not  think.  At  last  the  suspense  grew  too 
horrible  to  be  borne ;  even  certainty  could  be  no  worse. 

Ellen  Eandolph,  opening  her  window  and  seeing  a 
Federal  soldier  passing  by,  called  out : 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  meaning  of  those  guns  ?  " 

"  What  say  ?  "  said  the  man,  approaching  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  meaning  of  those  guns  ?  "  re- 
peated the  young  lady,  tremulously. 

'^  Yes,  ma'am,  them  guns  is  fired  to  celebrate  the 
surrender  of  General  Lee's  army." 

He  heard  something  like  a  gurgling,  choking  sound 
as  the  figure  disappeared  from  the  window.  It  was 
the  dying  gasp  of  hope  in  the  young  heart. 

After  some  days  the  disbanded  soldiers  of  the  dead 
cause  began  to  flock  back  to  the  city,  with  bowed 


OF  TUE  LATE  TF.li?.  383 

heads  and  bleeding  hearts.  They  told  with  eloquence 
which  alone  is  the  offspring  of  true  feeling,  of  the  last 
hour  of  the  life  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia ;  of 
the  hardships  of  the  march,  when  the  expected  rations 
failed  to  reach  them,  and  how  the  soldiers  were  obliged 
to  scatter  in  order  to  get  food  to  save  them  from  star- 
vation. How  they  lived  for  days  on  raw  corn  and  even 
roots,  but  still  the  thought  of  surrender  was  far  from 
them ;  and  how  when  the  hour  for  meeting  the  enemy 
arrived,  and  they  were  rushing  on  to  the  conflict,  sud- 
denly the  field  seemed  to  be  alive  with  white  flags,  and 
their  old  warrior  General  riding  into  their  midst,  the 
tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks,  said  : 

*'  I  have  done  what  I  could  for  you  j  I  can  do  no 
more." 

Then  hardy  soldiers  fell  down  in  his  pathway,  and 
were  not  ashamed  of  their  tears ;  and  the  ofScers  see- 
ing the  terrible  suffering  of  the  Commander-in-Chief, 
who  must  take  the  responsibility  of  action,  showed 
their  love  for  him  by  striving  to  share  it,  and  many  a 
strong  man  bowed  his  head  over  the  hand  of  the  noble 
old  soldier  in  deeper  reverence  and  love  than  in  the 
days  of  his  greatest  triumphs. 

In  a  few  days  General  Lee  returned  to  the  city,  and 
his  friends  flocked  around  him  to  testify  their  love  and 
sympathy  ;  and  truly  he  was  grander  in  the  moment  of 
defeat  than  he  had  ever  been  at  the  head  of  his  con- 
quering armies;  and  never  had  he  been  so  entirely  the 
leader  of  the  Southern  people,  whom  he  swayed  by 
his  moderation  and  wisdom  into  like  action. 

In  the  delirium  of  the  moment  thousands  would  have 
sought  foreign  homes,  talked  wildly  of  Brazil  and 
Mexico.     But  he  ever  advised  all  to  remain  and  accept 


384:  WOMEN,   OR  CHRONICLES 

the  situation  which  was  inevitable,  and  do  their  duty 
as  became  good,  honorable  men,  hoping  for  better 
times  in  the  future.  For  himself  he  nobly  refused 
wealth  and  honors,  preferring  to  set  the  people  who  so 
loved  him  the  example  of  a  life  made  noble  by  misfor- 
tune, and  of  a  -greatness  which  could  know  no  fall. 

Choosing  for  his  profession  in  life  the  simple  duties 
of  an  instructor  of  youth,  he  led  young  men  into  the 
battle  of  life,  and  showed  himself  the  great  General  in 
instructing  them  how  to  overcome  its  difficulties  and 
perils  by  a  dependence  upon  the  Captain  of  their  sal- 
vation. And  here  in  his  home  among  the  hoary  hills 
of  his  native  State,  beside  the  grave  of  his  former  com- 
rade, he  found  the  happiness  he  sought  in  the  paths  of 
duty  ;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  honored  head  down 
to  rest,  the  people  whom  he  had  served  so  faithfully 
mourned  him  as  a  father,  and  wept  again  as  for  the 
second  loss  of  the  cause  of  the  South. 


OF  THE  LATE   WAR,  385 


CHAPTER  XXXYII, 

*'  By  lliia  lime,  lilie  one  -who  has  set  out  on  his  ■\^-ay  by  night,  and 
travelled  through  a  region  of  smooth  and  idle  dreams,  our  history  now 
arrives  on  the  confines  when  daylight  and  truth  meet  us  with  a  clear 
dawn,  representing  to  our  view  true  colors  and  shapes." — Milton. 

Eeader,  the  time  has  come  for  ns  to  part ;  but  before 
doing  so,  I  would  present  to  jour  mental  vision  two 
brief  scenes,  in  which,  together,  we  take  our  final 
leave  of  "  The  Holcombes." 

Scene  L 

Several  months  have  elapsed  since  the  close  of 
the  war,  and  Eichraond  is  but  beginning  to  breathe 
again  after  the  long  paralysis  which  succeeded  its 
final  scenes.  It  is  true  that  sickly  odors  are  still 
ascending  from  the  ruins,  and  where  the  foundations  of 
the  houses  were  dug  deepest  a  sullen  cloud  of  smoke 
still  rises  from  the  smouldering  fires,  which  continue 
with  strange  pertinacity  to  live  on  without  food  to  sus- 
tain them.  But  notwithstanding,  Richmond's  wounds 
arc  being  patched  up,  and  people  begin  to  talk  hope- 
fully of  her  recovery.  Her  streets  are  clearing  of  their 
piles  of  rubbish,  and  here  and  there  workmen,  who  have 
doffed  the  gray  for  the  mason's  leather  apron,  are 
repairing  the  waste  places  and  rebuilding  the  ruined 
walls  ;  and  to  supply  the  lack  of  buildings  for  business 
purposes,  booths  are  opened  and  merchandise  carried 
on  under  canvas  within  the  ruins  themselves.  The 
disbanded  soldiers  have  returned  to  their  homes  and  to 
the  walks  of  private  life,  and  sadly  but  with  determin- 
17 


3S6  WOMEA'',   OB  CHRONICLES 

ation  are  putting  their  shoulders  to  the  wheel  of  for- 
tune, which  turns  but  slowly  upon  the  rugged  road 
they  have  to  travel.  The  highways  are  open  and 
travel  resumed  under  restrictions.  The  exiles  are  be- 
ginning to  return,  and  surely  but  slowly  is  the  pulse  of 
the  nation  beginning  to  throb,  and  its  great  heart  to 
beat  regularly  and  naturally,  though  its  wounds  are 
still  festering  and  the  blood  flowing  from  every  pore. 

The  new  passenger-boat  upon  the  James  river  has 
just  arrived  from  Norfolk;  and  as  the  travellers  crowd 
the  plank  which  affords  a  passage  to  the  landing,  wo 
press  forward  to  welcome  familiar  faces,  a  lady  and  a 
gentleman  —  he  a  strong,  broad-shouldered,  rugged 
Saxon,  and  she  matching  him  well  in  her  noble  height 
and  queenly  carriage,  her  youthful  face  bearing  the 
indelible  stamp  of  past  sorrow,  which  while  plowing 
its  furrow  deep  into  the  heart  and  placing  its  sign- 
manual  upon  the  broad  brow,  has  left  a  chastened  light 
upon  the  whole  visage,  softening  the  lofty  pride  of  her 
style  of  beauty  and  illuminating  it  with  a  tender  grace 
which  uninterrupted  happiness  could  never  have  be- 
stowed. Behind  this  couple  is  a  plain,  neat  elderly 
woman,  bearing  carefully  in  her  arms  a  large  bundle, 
about  the  safe  conduct  of  which  both  the  lady  and  gen- 
tleman manifest  considerable  anxiet3\ 

A  carriage  is  called,  the  party  enter,  and  are  whirled' 
away  up  the  street,  but  not  too  swiftly  for  us  to  follow, 
we  see  them  stop  at  the  door  of  a  cottage-dwelling  in 
the  suburbs  of  the  city.  We  see  the  lady  look  anxiously 
out,  and  there  are  tears  in  her  eyes.  As  the  door  is 
opened  there  is  a  sound  of  joy  within  the  house,  and 
the  party  hardly  reach  the  pavement  before  a  young 
golden-haired  girl  rushes  out  and  flies  to  the  arms  of 
the  lady,  crying: 


OP  THE  LATE  WAR  387 

"  Margie  !  Margie  !  •" 

She  is  followed  by  a  gentleman  who  moves  with 
some  diffic-ulty,  by  reason  of  a  wooden  leg  which  sup- 
plies a  lost  limb ;  a  gentle,  lovely  lady,  a  young  bearded 
man  with  a  scarred  face,  an  older  man  with  an  empty 
coat-sleeve,  and  two  feeble  old  negroes,  a  man  and  a 
woman. 

The  travellers  are  almost  borne  into  the  house  in  the 
arms  of  their  friends;  and  we  still  follow  on. 

We  see  Margaret  Murray  with  her  arm  around  her 
step-mother.  She  forces  her  gently  on  and  places  her 
in  an  arm-chair,  and  kneeling  before  her,  takes  from 
the  woman  who  follows  the  mysterious  bundle,  which 
she  places  upon  her  knees,  and  together  the  two  women 
proceed  to  examine  its  contents,  while  the  rest  of  the 
company  stand  by  and  look  on.  It  takes  some  time  to 
reach  the  heart  of  this  bundle,  by  reason  of  the  multi- 
tudinous wraps  ;  but  it  is  accomplished  at  last,  and  ex- 
clamations of  delight  sound  through  the  room  as  a  fair 
sleeping  baby  of  about  three  months  old  is  presented  to 
view,  and  the  young  mother,  first  stooping  down  and 
kissing  her  treasure,  puts  her  arms  about  the  older 
lady's  neck  as  she  says  with  a  face  all  aglow  with 
feeling: 

"  Mamma,  I  have  called  her  Jean  Holcombe  ;  my 
little  Jean  Holcombe  Murray.^' 

*'  Oh,  Margie,"  said  Jean,  the  blush  rising  to  her 
check,  *'your  own  mother  dear." 

"No,  Mamma,"  said  Margaret,  with  increased  ear- 
nestness, "  my  own  mother,  if  she  can  see  from  her 
home  in  heaven,  knows  I  am  right  and  approves.  And 
oh.  Mamma,"  kissing  her  and  speaking  tremulously, 
^    "if  my  baby's  name  only  tells  you  in  plain  enough 


388  WOMEN,  OR  CHRONICLES 

language  what  I  wish  to  say,  that  you  have  been  the 
great  blessing  of  my  life;  that  when  I  look  back 
and  recall  all  of  the  sad  waywardness  of  my  childhood 
and  youth ;  when  I  remember  with  such  regret  all 
the  sorrow  and  worry  I  must  have  been  to  you  in 
those  early  days,  and  that  in  all  that  time  my  memory 
does  cot  bring  up  one  harsh  or  unkind  word ;  that 
through  it  all  you  met  waywardness  with  sweet  for- 
bearance, and  indifference,  and  even  dislike,  with  un- 
failing and  unwavering  affection ;  and  when  I  think  of  a 
later  time — oh,  Mamma,  Mrtf  later  time!  "  and  she  kisses 
her  with  tears  now  — '^  when  sorrow  came  upon  me,  and 
your  dear  breast  was  the  pillow  for  my  head,  and  your 
dear  heart  the  resting-place  for  my  Avoes  —  when  I 
think  of  all  this,  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted  some  way  in 
which  to  testify  my  sense  of  it  all.  Let  my  baby  bear 
your  name,  Mamma,  my  little  Jean  Holcombe  Murray ! 
I  love  to  call  her  so,  and  whenever  I  do,  I  pray  to  God 
that  she  may  grow  up  to  be  a  blessing  and  a  treasure 
to  all  with  whom  she  comes  in  contact  as  you  have 
been." 

Scene   II. 

It  is  two  years  since  the  close  of  the  war,  and  the 
town  of  Winchester  has  recovered  considerably  from 
its  dilapidation,  and  has  resumed  its  old  quiet,  staid 
appearance  so  completely  that  it  is  hard  to  realise 
that  it  has  ever  been  the  theatre  of  the  stirring  events 
we  have  detailed  in  the  progress  of  this  story.  The 
legend  of  the  Shawnee  Spring  would  seem  to  have 
some  truth  in  it,  as  all  of  the  old  inhabitants  have  been 
drawn  back  to  the  town,  many  of  them  despoiled  of 
their  homes,  most  of  them  poverty-stricken  and  care- 


OP  THE  LATE  WAU.  389 

worn,  taking  np  the  burden  of  life  upon  their  old  camp- 
ground, fighting  fortune  upon  their  old  battle-field. 

But  in  the  midst  of  their  struggles  for  the  necessaries 
of  existence,  the  cause  they  so  loved  is  not  forgotten. 
They  often  revert  to  it  with  moist  eyes  and  shaking 
voices;  but  they  have  learned  to  kiss  the  rod  which 
smote  them,  and  to  bow  in  submission  before  the  un- 
seen purposes  of  Him  who  sees  the  end  from  the  be- 
ginning. 

Eemembering  that  a  cause  lost  is  a  cause  condemned, 
and  unwilling  that  the  children  of  those  who  had  sur- 
rendered everything,  and  life  itself,  for  a  principle  of 
right,  should  adopt  the  verdict  of  the  world,  the  women 
of  Winchester  determined  to  collect  together  the  bones 
of  the  slaughtered  martyrs  of  the  Yalley,  and  place 
them  in  consecrated  ground  ;  and  that  they  would  es- 
tablish it  as  a  custom  to  be  observed  to  all  future  gene- 
rations, that  on  a  certain  day,  year  after  year,  they 
would  repair  as  mourners  to  the  spot  and  decorate 
these  honored  graves  with  flowers ;  and  so  the  children 
coming  to  years  of  observation,  and  receiving  from  the 
failing  hands  of  their  parents  this  obligation  as  a  sacred 
trust,  the  Lost  Cause,  and  the  graves  of  those  who  fell 
in  it,  would  alwa3'S  retain  their  places  in  the  hearts  of 
the  Southern  people.* 

So  they  organised  themselves  into  a  committee,  and 
help  came  in  to  them  from  all  quarters.  Every  Southern 
State  sent  in  her  contribution,  for  every  Southern  State 
had  her  personal  interest  in  the  enterprise.  A  beau- 
tiful spot  was  chosen,  overlooking  the  town,  and  every 
one  took  his  part  in  the  labor  of  love  ;  the  men  gave 
their  strength,  and  the  women  devised  and  executed; 

^      *Thi3  custom  had  ita  birth  in  Winchester,  thou;;h  uow  it  extends  through 
the  South. 


390  wome:^,  or  chhonigles 

and  the  Yalley  at  the  pious  call  rendered  up  the 
precious  dust  of  these  her  sons,  and  it  was  laid  to 
rest  beneath  the  sod  over  which  they  had  so  often 
charged  to  battle,  and  which  had  been  wet  with  their 
blood. 

The  ground  was  tastefully  laid  out  in  a  separate  divi- 
sion for  each  State,  which  was  designated  by  a  white  col- 
umn with  its  name  upon  it;  and  around  lay  the  dead  in 
ranks  as  they  had  marched  to  battle,  and  each  grave 
distinguished  by  a  simple  headstone,  bearing  the  name, 
regiment,  and  date  of  death  of  the  deceased. 

In  the  centre  of  the  ground  rises  a  mound,  marked 
as  the  other  divisions  by  a  white  column,  upon  which 
is  inscribed: 

^'815  unknown  and  unrecorded  dead  lie  beneath  this 
m(Dund." 

A  sad,  sad  epitaph !  But  thanks  be  to  God,  He 
knoweth  them  that  are  His,  and  their  souls  are  pre- 
cious in  His  sight ! 

It  is  the  6th  of  June,  the  day  chosen  for  the  decora- 
tion of  the  graves  and  the  dedication  of  the  new  ceme- 
tery, which  they  have  named  "  Stonewall,"  in  honor 
of  the  hero  whose  name  will  be  the  watchword  of  the 
people  of  the  Yalley  so  long  as  memory  lives  or 
history  records  his  virtues  and  his  achievements. 

From  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  of  this  marked 
day  the  roads  leading  to  the  town  are  alive  with 
vehicles  loaded  with  flowers,  or  persons  on  horseback 
and  on  foot  bearing  their  many-hued  burdens.  Xever 
was  there  a  more  triumphant  assertion  of  the  universal 
love  of  the  people  for  the  cause,  than  in  this  outpour- 
ing of  the  population  to  do  honor  to  its  memory. 
They  flocked  in  from  fifty  miles  around.     Wherever 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR>  391 

the  news  of  the  enterprise  had  reached,  the  streets 
were  crowded  with  them,  and  around  the  cemetery 
itself  hundreds  of  vehicles  stood,  serving  as  seats  for 
the  waiting  multitude.  At  ten  o'clock  a  procession 
was  formed  upon  one  of  the  streets  of  the  town,  con- 
sisting first  of  the  surviving  members  of  the  Stonewall 
Brigade  and  the  citizens  of  the  town,  and  then  of  the 
women,  marching  two  and  two  with  downcast  faces 
and  tearful  eyes,  each  with  her  offering  of  flowers  in 
her  hands.  It  was  estimated  that  there  were  about 
five  thousand  in  the  procession.  It  was  the  funeral 
of  the  Confederacy ! 

Onward  the  long  line  moved  through  the  streets 
where  the  living  army  had  so  often  marched.  On, 
on  —  until  at  last  the  cemetery  was  reached,  and  there 
the  procession  separated,  and  the  women  tearfully  and 
sadly  laid  their  burdens  down.  No  grave  was  neg- 
lected, each  was  honored  as  the  resting-place  of  a 
brother;  and  as  a  familiar  name  would  catch  the  vision 
of  one,  a  flower  and  a  tear  would  drop  together  on  the 
mound. 

It  was  a  simple  testimonial,  touchingly  beautiful 
even  to  those  who  had  no  especial  interest  in  it ;  but 
when  connected  with  the  memory  of  the  past,  there 
were  a  pathos  and  a  beauty  in  it  which  the  eloquence  of 
the  tear  alone  can  describe. 

"We  recognise  many  familiar  faces  in  the  crowd. 
There  is  Mrs.  Mason  laying  a  flower  upon  a  grave  as  she 
murmurs  : 

"  Poor  Charlie  !  " 

There  is  Mary  with  her  April  face,  the  book  of  whose 
maiden  life  has  been  closed  for  more  than  a  3'ear,  lean- 
ing upon  the  arm  of  her  husband.     There  are  Captain 


392  WOMLW,  OB  CURONICLES 

and  Mrs.  Holcorabe,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eandolph,  Ellen  and 
Mr.  Hautman,  and  Colonel  Murray  and  Margaret ;  the 
latter  guides  the  tottering  footsteps  of  a  fair,  flaxen- 
haired  little  girl.  As  they  reach  the  graves,  she 
stoops  down,  and  simplifying  her  language  to  suit  the 
comprehension  of  the  baby  mind,  tells  her  to  put  her 
"  pretty  rose  ''  on  the  grave  of  the  dear  Southern  soldier 
"who  died  for  "  Papa  and  Mamma  and  little  Jean  ;  "  and 
the  baby,  not  fully  comprehending  this  great  mystery  of 
death,  •which  has  puzzled  older  and  wiser  heads  than 
hers,  but  seeing  her  mother's  tearful  face,  and  recog- 
nising in  it  something  solemn  and  sad,  which,  child-like, 
she  connects  with  her  simple  daily  prayers,  takes  the 
office  in  trust  from  "Mamma,"  and  laj^s  her  flower 
down  as  she  says,  while  a  pretty  seriousness  obscures 
the  dimples  upon  her  face  : 

"Poor  sojer!  die  for  Papa  and  Mamma  and    Baby 
Jean,  for  Jedus'  sake,  Amen." 


Reader,  my  task  is  done !  The  spirits  I  have  raised 
abandon  me ;  and  as  they  vanish  in  the  mist  of  the 
future,  1  eagerly  strive  to  pierce  the  distance,  and 
follow  the  forms  of  those  who  have  stood  as  the  repre- 
sentatives of  my  ideas  in  these  pages.  I  see  them 
going  down  the  pathway  of  life  calmly  and  quietly, 
seeking  happiness  in  "homely  joys  and  destinies  ob- 
scure." I  see  their  patriotism  living  more  in  the  past 
than  the  present;  though  the  rainbow  of  hope  begins 
faintly  to  span  the  horizon  as  the  clouds  break  away 
and  the  sun  shines  upon  the  quiet  graves.  And  look- 
ing farther  into  the  mist,  "  raethinks  I  see  in  my  mind 
a  noble  and  jmissant  nation  rousing  herself  like  a  strong 


OF  THE  LATE  WAR.  393 

man  after  sleep,  and  shaking  her  invincible  locks.  Me- 
thinks  I  see  her  as  an  eagle  renewing  her  mighty  youth, 
and  kindling  her  iindazzled  eyes  at  the  full  midday 
beam." 

Finis. 


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